


In the After

by palimpsestus



Series: Chaos [5]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, F/M, Future Fic, Smut, babies ever after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 15:20:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palimpsestus/pseuds/palimpsestus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's called a post war population boom and politicians love it. But why would you want to, in a galaxy like this? A series of shorts looking at the post-Reaper life of the Normandy crew, mutated from the previous fic "Three's Good"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Twos

**Author's Note:**

> Kink meme prompt was: Hot Baby Makings F!Shepard/KaidanThe title is pretty self explanatory, right? I just want some hot baby making maybe with a little glimpse into mommy or daddy (or both) lives after the baby is born. Any and everything else is up to you!
> 
> Apologies to Aeryn Sun for the thought - this one might become a bit of a repository for various Chaos ficlets.

Kaidan’s theory, never spoken of but often thought about, was that families worked best in multiples of two. Two was fine. Two was long evenings in front of the fire with good beer, maybe a game on the extranet, Terra Bucks vs Vancouver Panthers maybe, and then when the Panthers triumphed in their rightful glory, he could slid across the sofa to his grieving wife, kiss her on the cheek, the neck, tease her from her clothes and continue the Panthers’ winning streak out in the bedroom.

Three clearly did not work. Three was Liara and Javik traipsing around a gallery, Rallik being alternately dragged or running on ahead to smear her sticky fingers over something priceless. Three was a dinner party where interspecies juvenile growth was compared – oh Rallik was reading by that stage – fair enough, but human infants struggle to hold up their own head for months. Tali and Garrus never compared Rael’s progress to Edie’s but a mercenary pride in his own daughter suggested to him that was because Rael was still playing catch up from his time in the orphanage. Three was planning seating arrangements around a child’s last accolade.

Two was his wife sitting cross legged on the floor with his daughter in her lap. Edie splayed her hand over the omnitool display and frowning. “Duck!”

“We’re getting to the duck,” Shepard said softly.

“Want duck!”

Kaidan suppressed his smile as Shepard resumed the story, the tale of the ugly duckling, wondering what Edie could relate to in the story. Perhaps she did just like the little grey cygnet.  His daughter was beautiful and clever and never likely to be the ugly duckling. He lingered in the doorway, watching the scene. He would make it three. There wouldn’t be enough Edie for both of them to hold.  There wasn’t enough Edie in the world. Three wasn’t good . . . four was good.

When they were two once more and he had finished tucking Edie into her bed, kissed her forehead, stroked her thick, dark curls and gazed down at her sleeping face – she was never peaceful in repose, always frowning, as though her little mind was in overtime while her body played catchup – Kaidan managed to pull himself away and approached his wife in silence, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and resting his chin on her shoulder. “Let’s have another,” he said.

She chuckled, barely looking away from her emails. “We can practice any time you like,” she purred, heading for the sofa, dragging him along in her wake. “Ugh Sparatus has started playing dirty with Tevos.”

Kaidan was quick to twist as they hit the sofa, catching Shepard in his arms as they fell to the soft cushions. He caught her cheeks between his palms and kissed her. “Please don’t talk about the Council when I’m trying to make love to you,” he scolded.

“Oh!” A grin came over her and she flicked her omnitool away, pushing him down and straddling his hips. “I didn’t realise you were trying to ‘ _make love_ ’ to me, I do apologise,” she teased, chuckling as he worked his fingers under her shirt. She delivered light, quick kisses on his lips.

Two was easily distracted. When Shepard was warm and strong above him, her lips soft and seeking, her skin smooth under his hands, he was apt to forget about numbers and politics and everything apart from the woman who had agreed to love him forever. Shepard lowered herself over him, the rounds of her breasts brushing over his chest through far too many layers of fabric and murmured in a voice that purred with suggestion, “your place or mine, handsome?” She squealed in delight when he forced himself up – more than enough compensation for the physical effort it took for him to lift both their weights in one smooth motion.

“Mine,” he decided, supporting her hips as she twined her legs around his waist. “My wife’s too busy working to even notice.”

She tossed her head back at that, a little snarl curling her lips. “Idiot doesn’t know what she has.”

They were quiet as they passed Edie’s room, until Kaidan crossed the threshold of the bedroom and then Shepard resumed with a passionate kiss, a low moan echoing from her chest to his. Her fingers tangled in the neck of his shirt and one thumb scraped his chin. “I haven’t been neglecting you, have I?” she asked, wriggling out his grasp to sit on the bed.

“No, darling,” he assured her, going to his knees in front of her. He continued his slow unbuttoning of her shirt as he leaned in to reprise her kiss, letting his teeth drag across her lip as he freed her from the far too cumbersome shirt and slid it from her shoulders, chasing the fabric with his fingertips.

“You’d tell me if I did?” she asked, her skin expressing the shiver she carefully kept from her voice.

“When have I ever kept my peace?” he demanded, rocking back on his heels to look into her eyes. He brushed hair from her face with the back of his hand. “And speaking of, I wasn’t joking before.”

Confusion and irritation warred on her face – her irritation sprouting from her confusion.

Kaidan dropped his voice deliberately, let his hand fall to her breast to rest there atop the lace of her bra, his eyes half narrowed. “Let’s have another one.”

“Another child?” She was so pleased to figure it out that she almost didn’t think it through. When she did, she laughed and scooted backwards, shedding the rest of her clothes in a few effortless shrugs of her long limbs that had him scrambling to catch up – as always. “Don’t you think we’ve got enough on our plate?”

“Not nearly,” he muttered, launching himself across the bed in pursuit. She tried to dodge, but went for the pillows instead of the foot and so he snagged her ankle with one hand and tugged her back underneath him without much effort. She had planned for this eventuality and smacked him over the side of his face with a pillow, taking refuge underneath it when he blinked in surprise. “That’s mature,” he told her, planting a hand on either side of her shoulders. “That’s the kind of behaviour a mother would do.”

Shepard lowered the pillow to stick her tongue out. So he kissed her and tasted her while she manoeuvred the pillow under her hips and then raked his ass with her nails in typically Shepard-esque invitation.

“Oh, no,” he broke the kiss to say. “We’re talking about this now, Councillor. Edie needs a brother.”

“Mmmm. What if it’s a sister?” She craned her neck to try and kiss him once more, snorting with disappointment when he held himself out of her reach. She levered herself up on her elbows and did kiss him, snaking one foot over his calf and twisting her body, wrestling him underneath her. He carried them back over with their momentum, pinning her once more.

“A sister works too,” he said simply.

Shepard shrugged, her shoulder bumping his arm. “I feel like being on the bottom today,” she said.

“Baby, you’re on the top wherever you are.”

She broke into laughter, trying to stifle it by burying her face in the crook of his elbow. He stole the opportunity to walk his fingers down the curve of her thigh, prompting her to spread her legs in welcome.

“I love you,” he lowered his head so his lips brushed her ear. “I love our daughter. I want more.”

“What if the next one’s not as good?” she whispered, arching her back and letting him slide inside her.  “What if we just really lucked out with Edie?”

“She’s a great kid,” he agreed. Perfect, he thought. “But we can do it again. She’s two. We need to get a move on before she realises she can get a say in the matter.”

That made Shepard chuckle, a little breathless, and her body convulsed around him. He made a fist in the sheets above her head and breathed – in and out – in and out.

“You, uh-” she swallowed raggedly, her eyes closing as she rocked up to meet him again. “You didn’t much like the last time I was pregnant.”

“’llbe diff’r’nt,” he promised, curving his left arm under her waist to pull her into a better position. Where had the pillow gone? She was all heat and silk around him, home, love, pleasure, everything.

“You want me pregnant again?” she asked, her voice high and whispery. “Want me . . . carrying your baby?” Her hand clutched erratically at his shoulder, fingers squeezing skin, nails digging in.

“Shepard,” he warned. Home, love, pleasure, everything. Her response was to flatten her spine against the sheets, drawing him in deeper with a determined hiss of air. He felt her breath on his skin, the unbearable heat of their bodies making even that little breeze a whisper of relief. Sweat beaded on Shepard’s collarbone and her eyes closed, going wherever she went when her nerves betrayed her and her body shook and quivered in response to him. He kept pushing, thrusting into her again as she tightened around him. When he surfaced from the physical, she was curled against him, her hand gently stroking his arm. Tangled together, he did think to tug the sheets back over their sweat chilled bodies before he let his head rest on her hair fanned out on the pillow.

He could only have slumbered for a while because he felt her weight shift, the mattress adjusting to support his weight only. He opened one eye, caught sight of her back as she sat on the edge of the bed, her hands reaching up to slick her hair back. He reached forward to trace her spine.

“You really want more kids?”

He smiled. That small voice, that resigned lilt that said – _so we’re going to storm this heavily fortified base before I get my breakfast_ – that meant she was going to say yes. “Why don’t you?”

She twisted and scowled at him. “Who said I don’t? I just think that if we’re going to have more kids we really need a dog too.”

“Hmm.” Kaidan maintained an unimpressed grimace as she tapped out a few controls on her omnitool. When the orange glow faded she flexed her left arm and rubbed her implant, hissing. He sat up to kiss the skin, warm where it had changed in response to her command. “Maybe one dog,” he allowed and would have pulled her back down to the sheets if a plaintive cry hadn’t come from down the hall.

“I’ve got it,” Shepard said, kissing his hand before she rose. She snatched up a soft robe from the chair, the silk fluttering as she turned at the door to fix him with a glare. “You realise there’ll be a lot less of this?” she said, barely suppressing her smile.

Kaidan only shook his head. “I don’t think Uncle Javik does nearly his share of babysitting, that’s all I’m saying.” He settled back against the sheets, fighting the heaviness of his eyelids and listening out for a cry for backup. Three was good. Four was much better. 


	2. All Your Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say that all Liara's dreams have come true.

The _Penumbra Apex_ flared once against the pitch sky, illuminating Reapers and other dreadnoughts before a moment of silence stretched out over the battlefield . . . until her hull began to crackle with fire and schisms, breaking apart as the Reapers screamed their victory, pursuing forward.

She shrieked from cords that didn’t support such a sound, Mindoir, Elyisum, flashing in front of her eyes.

He watched the remnants of their hope splinter into fragments and felt nothing. He knew, filing it away as data, that Orla had been on the _Penumbra_ and simply wishing her soul peace, if she had one, if any of them had one, and if peace could exist somewhere alongside the Reapers.

***

Liara woke slowly, the sheets snaring her ankles, her dream still convincing her she had a hard, chitin-anologue of an exoskeleton, her vision feeling clouded and flat. Javik’s memories were revealed to her in their bondings and she often dreamed of him, when her work had her thinking of Protheans, or when Javik returned from one of his roamings and she greeted him with a kiss and news of their daughter. The parts of the dream that had come from Shepard was not memory. Nor was it wholly a dream. Liara fluffed the pillow under her head, closing her eyes and establishing dominion over her own body. Her skin was soft, could feel the cotton bunching under her shoulders. Her fingers were shorter, more numerous than those that had wished Orla’s spirit on its way. Her mind was her own, no crusader she, no angry little orphan who raised her head to the heavens and swore ‘never again’. Yes, the rage her dream had elicited was the reflection of what Shepard had experienced when the Cipher had wound its way through her mind. It was not _hers_.

Liara inhaled and exhaled, listened to the beat of the heart, opened her mind to the limit of her senses and reassured herself that she was Liara T’Soni, she was asari, she grieved for the _Penumbra_ as she grieved for the Protheans, in a way devoid of proper realisation, and that would keep her sane. She rose from her bed and pressed her fingers against the window control, the glass losing its black tint to reveal Eden Prime’s emerald canopies, the flutter of birds startled from the trees at the sight of her, and in the distance, one of the tall mobile agriculture units slowly picking its way over the unspoilt rainforest, glittering in the morning sun. The dream had been a gift from this planet, no doubt, perhaps subconscious recognition of Javik’s discomfort at being deposited back here once more.

She sighed and crossed her arms under her breasts, watching the agriculture unit as it glided slowly alongside the river. It was almost eight years now since the _Normandy_ had crashed here, since the _Agincourt_ had come to collect them, since Joker and Gabby and Ken had made the long round trip to once again make the _Normandy_ spaceworthy and brought her home. These eight years had been kind to Eden Prime, brought new settlers, brought it wealth, made it one of the human hubworlds, not a prohibitively long flight from Earth. A smile curved her lips. Eden Prime was always going to be a strange place for her, with the feelings of other people strong in her mind, but she knew she loved its jungles and heat. Besides, it was here that she had chosen to conceive.

With that on her mind, she tiptoed through the prefab to Rallik’s room and it was there she found her errant partner. He too brought a smile to her lips, just by existing. Javik was standing with his shoulder against the wall, watching Rallik sleeping. He was dressed in light, silken robes of a dark midnight blue that billowed over his shoulders, hiding the muscles that bulged under flexible carapace. She placed her hand on the small of his back, the fabric between them keeping information transfer to a minimum, and she took advantage of his stillness to press her body up against his, relishing the feel of him under his robes. He looped one arm over her shoulders. Shepard had once tried to explain to Liara the old joke about naked asari first contact teams. Liara still thought the joke was a ridiculous statement about asari sexual mores, but learning Prothean taboos had been a long, hard process. Javik rarely went naked, even in the security of their own bed. He kept the transfer surface of his skin protected at all times.

And sometimes, even the barrier of clothes between them was too flimsy and he would retreat, he would leave for some quarian vessel passing through or fight mercenaries out on the fringes of their space, or simply disappear to be unheard of for months. He did that less frequently now, since she had screamed at him for letting her think that he’d finally made good on his promises to rejoin his race.

She knew what people said about her. They thought Javik was her fairytale prince, that she was too blinded by her academic obsession to see him as a person. They thought she loved him for what he was, not who he was, and even Javik had levelled that accusation at her once or twice. And she was criticised for Rallik, for choosing to fully enter her matron stage so young, for choosing a father of a long dead race – as if the asari hadn’t been gleefully throwing themselves at krogan with the line ‘live on in me’ for centuries.

All her choices, all those . . . _wrong_ . . . choices, were just one more stick for the others to beat her with. As if anyone came out of the War the same way they went in, as if there weren’t millions of very young asari matrons these days, as if . . .

Javik sighed softly. The tidal capacity of the prothean lungset was larger than that of most bipeds in this cycle, with the exception of the drell, and so his softest sigh was loud and hard in her ears. She checked their daughter, reflexively, but Rallik slept on. “What’s the matter?” she murmured, splaying her hand over his keel. “You should be in bed.”

“I thought the little one called for me.”

“Hmm.” She let that pass. Eden Prime often triggered bouts of volatility in Javik, made him prone to declarations of affection or imaginings that his daughter was crying for him. Drumming her fingers against his chest, she heard her own breath catching as Rallik stirred, whining softly as she pressed her little face against the pillows. “Come away, love,” she said, tugging him back to the hall. Javik resisted at first, his footsteps lagging behind hers as they stalked the apartment. She paused in the kitchen and flicked the kettle’s switch, taking a moment to look out over the jungle’s canopy.

“This planet does not love you, no matter how prettily you look at it,” Javik told her, taking over the preparation of the tea as she stared.

“I don’t ask the planet to love me,” she scolded in return, and was rewarded by the flicker of amusement in the nearside pair of eyes.

“You do. You ask for its warmth and protection and acknowledgment of your memories.”

“This planet has given me everything I value in my life,” she teased, standing on tip toe to kiss his flat nose. She could hear the many eyelids clicking closed as he blinked. “I would thank it and love it even if it were a cold, unfeeling rock.”

She caught a brief memory of their first night together on Eden Prime, away from the Normandy and her crew, when he was still broken inside, a pit of rage and emptiness that somehow he had slowly filled with Liara and Rallik and friends. Javik leaned forward, pressing his lips against her, feeding her a little more of his feelings, his eternal amusement at her, the strange flickering flame of fathership he felt for Rallik . . . the conflict of knowing the protheans would continue on, even if only in the strangest of fashions.

“Hmm,” Liara licked her lips when they parted, keeping her eyes closed as she sorted through the memories and emotions that had been planted in her mind by protheans, humans, asari and drell throughout her lifetime.

Javik clicked in impatience and turned to pour coffee. “So, do you plan to spend all of the day worshiping this alien world, or will you do something constructive?”

She stuck her tongue out, like the woman she had embraced so many times, the woman who felt protheans, rather than knew them, who was always brought to mind when she was losing herself. She shook her shoulders and took her coffee from the counter, smiling at him. “I’m going to take Rallik to the memorial and confirm the arrangements with Doctor Monroe for the beacon remnant access. Then I think we’ll take a walk up the mountains to see the crash site.”

Javik folded his arms and watched her for a heartbeat before he bowed his head, revealing the long, narrow scalp – Protheans did that as a show of supplication, but it was an old gesture by Javik’s time, antiquated and . . . Liara was ripped from her own memories when Javik spoke “then I will get the little one ready. Will you start packing food for us?”

Liara knew not to comment on ‘us’, or to acknowledge how happy his participation in their little group of three made her. He would know the next time they made love, or the next time they fought. She was happy to make her own memories today. On this planet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote on the kink meme a fic about Liara and Javik getting together at the end of Mass Effect 3 (Embrace Victory - http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/4037.html?thread=10783173#t10783173). I liked their dysfunctional relationship as I saw it, but I can't stay in Liara's voice long enough to do more justice than this short chapter. Happy New Year!


	3. Dirty Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda Lawson knows how unscrupulous corporations work, and there's is something in Milgrom Salvage that doesn't sit right with her.

**Bekenstein, 2194**

“Miri, this is a bad idea,” Oriana murmured in her ear, laying a hand on her shoulder and squeezing. Miranda brushed Ori’s hand with her own, all the attention she could spare from the documents she was reading. Oriana sighed and stepped away from the desk, her heels clicking on the pre-fab floor. Her coat swished behind her, the hem brushing spirals of dust into the air. Oriana reached the window and braced her arms on the sill, staring out at the blood red sunset over the ruins of Milgrom, the black shards of the skyscrapers piercing the storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

Miranda scrolled her report down. “Look at this, 2192, the Colonist’s Repatriation Act is passed, the Exodus relay is repaired and without having to take the slow road, Geria M’Brai cuts off a good three weeks on her round trip to Bekenstein.” She glanced up to find that Oriana was still watching the slow sunset. “Over the next eighteen months Milgrom Salvage loses six vessels to piracy, four Earth bound vessels with minerals but two ships with a combined passenger manifest of two hundred and thirteen souls lost making the colony bound trips.”

“Piracy happens, Miri,” Oriana said.

“Two hundred and thirteen healthy, hale, perfectly fine adults,” Miranda stared through the orange screen listing manifests of the _MSVs Howard_ and _Attrixus_. “And all those lost ships were Kowloon class that can be stripped apart and reassembled or even sold back as salvage. Why didn’t they lose a ship of children? Why didn’t they lose a ship of veterans?”

“Luck. Miri. Sometimes there’s just bad luck.” Oriana turned from the window, framed briefly in the setting sun before it slipped over the horizon and out of sight. “Why would Geria undercut her own company by losing ships and salvage?”

“Because repatriation is hard.”

Oriana snorted. “Right, so why sign up to do it?”

“For the tax breaks the Council gives? Not to mention the goodwill you can get from that little stamp you’ve got on your adverts.”

Oriana swept forwards, catching Miranda by the shoulders and jerking her away from the desk, tugging her to the window. With the Boltzmann sun beneath the horizon, a grey haze lit the wreckage of Milgrom. The towers were still dark, black monoliths against the sky, but there were patches underneath lit with powerful flood lights, the heavy mechs still working, always working, tearing apart Milgrom for the metals, elements and minerals that had brought it so much wealth before the Reapers came. Now it was fit only for carrion. “Look at this planet,” Oriana demanded. “This planet is not going to pay dividends in our lifetime. The asari play a longer game than we do. She uses a high risk strategy - ”

“No.” It was a tight word, barely escaping from the hold Miranda had over herself, her arms wrapped close over her chest, her gaze on the city.  

Oriana sighed, a strand of short hair fluttering on her breath. “You see Cerberus in every shadow.”

Miranda’s arms tightened. “I see orphans out there,” she murmured. “Orphans who keep turning up here, expecting parents to claim them, expecting . . .” She stared at Milgrom. If Cerberus still existed in shadows, there were plenty for them to lurk in on Bekenstein.

“I’m going to get some sleep. I suggest you do the same.” The footsteps echoed until a door swished closed and Miranda could only hear the humming of the generator that powered this ‘hotel’.

Miranda took a breath, suddenly feeling as though she had been forgetting that simple task of late. Her chest hurt. She felt as though she was bound up tight in Onyx armour, that she needed to crack a hard seal and just _breathe_.

If it hadn’t been for the child . . . that child was no orphan, he had watched her with big, round eyes, full of trust and belief in the world. He couldn’t have been much more than two, better fed than most orphans his age, with cheeks that were only just beginning to lose their chubbiness. He had _stared_ at her, _asking_ her with glittering eyes, _where is my mother_?

She had stopped what she was doing and left the Bekenstein official talking to thin air, picking her way across the dusty floor and the children who were playing. She had crouched beside the blonde boy and smiled at him. “Hello,” she had said.

The boy mouthed something in return, but didn’t form the word fully, nor say it loud enough to be heard. He continued to chew on his finger.

“You see this is what I’m talking about,” Melia announced. She placed her hands on her hips, her omnitool still glowing. “We don’t have the resources for this, Ms Lawson.  And to be honest . . .” Melia bit her lip to stop herself, looking down at one of the bolder children who had come to show her a drawing. “Thank you, Tai,” she said.

Miranda reached out to brush a cowslick of dirty hair out of the boy’s face. He focussed on her, turning his cherub face up to hers.

Melia was crouching down beside them too. “There are too many children here,” Melia whispered. “But no one wants to talk about it. We’re too far from the Council, and selling Bekenstein’s ruins is too lucrative.” As Miranda lifted the little boy into her arms, Melia sighed. “Old habits die hard, on the Bek.”

On the Bek . . . that was what they used to call it, those white collar colonists who believed they were the craftiest sons of bitches out there, hidden in the shadow of the Citadel, giving salarians and asari a run for their money in outright craftiness. Miranda had visited Bekenstein in its heyday, several times, visits for Cerberus purposes that melded into one long day drinking coffee with men and women in suits, buying and selling codenames.

Codenames that might have been people. Some that she knew had been people.  Oriana wasn’t wrong when she said Miranda saw Cerberus in every shadow, but only because she knew those shadows so intimately.

She sat back at the desk and continued digging into Milgrom Salvage.

 

***

 

For a few days Oriana gave her the silent treatment. Oriana would leave early in the morning and search the old headquarters of Bekenstein based companies one at a time. She would repair files, undoubtedly surrounded in the dust that fell on Bekenstein every night, and the repaired files would be sent to Miranda’s storage, ready for the next stage of forensic reconstruction. War left a disrupted papertrail, but a trail nonetheless. War was always a good excuse for the unprofitable parts to be written off, or certain other companies to suddenly be acquired. Miranda didn’t compile those files as she ought to. Instead she worked her way around every Milgrom Salvage firewall she could. While Oriana spent her evenings listening to the salvage crews weave their stories of the war, Miranda uncovered columns where the one had not been carried and the sum had been put down wrong.

“You, uh, might want to look at Geria M’Brai’s subsidiaries,” Oriana said one morning, lingering at the doorway.

Miranda looked up over the sea of coffee mugs and take away cartons. “Any one in particular?” she asked.

“Only . . .” Oriana bit her lip, checking over her shoulder. “Be careful.”

When they arrived, a few days after, they had the decency to arrive when Oriana was out. On Bekenstein, the old ways still prevailed. You went quietly, out the back, to avoid the punters seeing. Miranda barely looked up from her screen. “You know I can take you.”

The two huntresses glanced at one another. One of them shrugged. “Miss M’Brai wishes to speak with you.”

“If you come quietly, we will not seek out your sister.”

“That doesn’t work quite as well as it used to,” she murmured. All the same, she held her hands up as she stood, showing no sign of resistance.

Out in the street, a sleek, black hovercar was waiting. A few human children lingered beside it, eyes wide as they watched her walk out between two asari. They scattered back into the ruins as the doors opened.

“Please,” said one asari. “In the back.”

“Does M’Brai think she can get away with it forever?” Miranda seated herself, one of the huntresses sitting beside her, the other taking the seat beside their driver, an overweight batarian with a nasty scar.

“Now, Ms Lawson,” said the asari in the front, “let’s not be throwing accusations around.”

“I suppose from your point of view, they’re only humans, aren’t they?” She turned her head to look out the window. Milgrom was like a broken mirror below them, barely functioning. This planet was still fighting the Reapers, still fighting what the Reapers had left behind. Not husks or indoctrination or economic collapse, but the loss of hope. Hope had fled this place and had never crept back.

“Now you’re putting words in our mouth,” said the asari, mildly. “But then, I was never in a pro-species terrorist group, so I’m sure you’re better placed to judge.”

“They say the sins of our father never leave us,” Miranda turned her attention back to the glass. She could see her own reflection on top of Bekenstein. Her father’s features watched the city slip away beneath them.

Geria’s headquarters was a fortified bunker. It had survived the Reapers and now it was a cave of opulence, the hallways lined with plush carpets, artwork on the walls that Miranda could only guess at the value. Batarians guarded every offshoot, the defacto thug of choice now the krogan had better things to be doing. Miranda was led into an office that faced a panoramic landscape painting of Thessia’s skyline centred on the Temple of Athame. It was a hideously garish thing, its orange and purple highlights almost migraine inducing. The desk that sat before it was frosted glass, a spinning executive’s toy powered by a tiny mass effect field drew the eye away from the sleek console. In one corner of the office sat a bright red chaise longue, in the other, a tall granite statue of a naked human woman, carved in disturbingly accurate detail.

Geria M’Brai turned from her contemplation of the masterpiece and smiled at Miranda. “I do love your species,” she said. “Strong. Adaptable. Certainly not quite as resilient as a turian or a batarian, but you do have attributes that they lack.” Her gaze lingered on Miranda.

“You forget who I used to run with,” Miranda folded her arms and glared. “I’ve walked into death traps and I’ve walked straight back out again. This is your warning, Geria. Let me go.”

“The galaxy’s changed,” Geria said softly. Her armour looked more durable than the suit Miranda wore, that much she had to admit. “Maybe you’ve lost your touch.”

Miranda kept her arms folded. She thought about the batarians on the doors, they were easy enough. The two huntresses would take work but they were manageable. Geria was an unknown quantity. “Maybe. I still have friends though.”

“Yes, yes you do.” Geria’s lips peeled back into a smile, revealing slightly crooked teeth. “The almighty Councillor Shepard. Hero of the Galaxy. Saviour, some say.” She sat behind her desk, crossing her legs as she watched Miranda. She clasped her hands over the crooked knee. “You know,” she added in a mocking whisper, feigning a girly chat. “There are some asari who _blame_ the illustrious Shepard for not getting to our homeworld in time. Can you believe it? Some asari who think that _might_ have been a calculated move to put the humans in power. Well that’s just shocking, isn’t it? Who would ever say such a thing?”

“Blood thirsty, amoral pirates who have no problem trading in slaves,” Miranda answered.

“Hmm.” Geria’s smile faded slightly. “Well Shepard is far, far away. And your sister is only a call away. The question is, Miranda Lawson, how are you going to play this?”

A prickle of nerves crept up Miranda’s spine. “I don’t suppose you think walking out is a valid strategy?”

“Ha, no, I am afraid not, Ms Lawson. The way I see it I can kill you here, which will mess up my rug, or I can take you to my little factory and you can see how many of your theories were right. Then I kill you and don’t make a mess of my rug. Maybe you even do a little work for me in the mean time.”

“Sorry. I don’t intend on doing either of those things.”

Geria sighed heavily and brushed her palms off on her thighs, heaving herself to her feet. “Well there’s a third option.”

“Yeah,” Miranda’s hand snapped out, a biotic field curling around the office toy and whipping it into Geria’s face. Miranda dove to the side, her elbow scraping against the carpet. She rolled behind the chaise as a warp crackled the wall behind her.

“You chose to be a smear on the rug, Lawson,” Geria growled, her voice perfectly level. The chaise rocketed upwards, just as Miranda expected it to. She was ready, pouncing forwards and executing a command on her omnitool. Geria yelped as her shields fizzled, just in time for Miranda to smack her in the face with a biotic punch. The victory was short lived, with Geria flinging her into a wall with a howl of rage.

The asari advanced on her, reaching for her pistol. “I’m sorry it had to end like this, wait-”

Rolling to her front, Miranda trained Geria’s pistol between the asari’s eyes. “Looking for this?”

Geria hesitated, hands half rising.

“Stay still,” Miranda grated out, pushing to her feet. “Now you have options, Geria.”

The asari’s eyes sparked. “What options? I could call for my guards.”

Miranda smiled. “Go right ahead.” The confusion that rippled over Geria’s face was a balm on Miranda’s soul. “Scream, Geria. Scream for the batarians. Scream for your huntresses.” She took a step closer, pushing the pistol’s muzzle against Geria’s forehead. “Scream.”

Geria gritted her teeth, her eyes crossing as they stared at the pistol. “Okay,” she said slowly. “How much do you want?”

“Wrong guess,” Miranda shrugged. “I am here for vengeance for those people you enslaved. You know I wouldn’t have noticed? But you were greedy, Geria. You took the healthy ones, the ones that could work. You left the children and the weak. You made me notice, Geria.” She didn’t glance around as the office door opened, but Geria’s head jerked.  Hope faded from Geria’s face. “Oh yes,” Miranda said, as though the thought had just occurred to her. “Do you really think I would let me sister accompany me to a shithole like this without making sure she could take care of herself?”

Oriana snorted, circling into Miranda’s field of view with a shotgun slung over one shoulder and a smile on her face. She stopped when she caught sight of the statue. “My, my,” was her only comment.

“Did they give you any trouble?” Miranda asked.

“No.” Oriana seemed insulted. Miranda couldn’t help it, the huntresses had given her pause, almost had her calling the whole thing off. She smiled at her sister. “They weren’t expecting us at all. A little band of humans,” she added, for Geria’s benefit. “Because we’re not alone in the galaxy, even when we are very far away from home.”

“Kneel,” Miranda ordered. With Oriana covering Geria with the shotgun, she felt safe enough to take one hand off of the pistol to wipe a little blood from her mouth. “Now you have options, Geria. You can tell us everything about your operation, where your base is, how we can get there safely and rescue your slaves safely, and hope that the Council deals with you before a Justicar comes . . .”

“Or?” Geria spat out.

“Or you can make a mess on this nice rug.”

Geria’s nose screwed up. “You have no idea. What will you do? Imprison me for the rest of my life? I’ll live a hundred times what you will, my crimes will be forgotten and forgiven when your grandchildren are out. My race will go on, human. Yours won’t.”

“You’d have got along well with our father,” Oriana said dryly. She nudged the back of Geria’s head with the shotgun. “If you were human.”

Miranda crouched down beside Geria, pretending to contemplate this. “You enslaved people to make money for yourself, not for your race, Geria. Now the thing about Councillor Shepard is . . . she believes in people. She believes in giving them chances. I never understood that, to be honest. But I _did_ give you a chance.” She stood, aimed the gun, and pulled the trigger. Geria fell to her expensive carpet, unrecognisable and still.

“You okay?” Oriana asked.

Miranda nodded, crossing to the terminal. She began to crack the password.

“Radio chatter says there’s a Spectre on the way,” Oriana said quietly, going to stare at the statue once more. “I suspect it’s James. He’ll be here in a few days.”

“Hopefully we’ll have a location by then,” Miranda responded.

“This place is pretty tacky.” Oriana left the statue alone and perched on the edge of the desk, looking down at her. “You okay? Did she hurt you?”

“We need to find those people,” was all Miranda said, wiping the fresh trail of blood from her lips.

***

James waited under the eaves of one of Milgrom’s few intact buildings while Oriana concluded her business with the Justicar. The asari turned to him, inclining her head in recognition. He nodded back. He had no doubt Samara would meet him again, right now the Justicar was going to be too busy making amends for what her kind had done to these poor slaves. The dust that still fell on Milgrom was lying heavy tonight, like the ashes of the dead they had found on Mokua.

He took a deep breath, the memory still weighing heavy on his chest. The planet was a graveyard of ships and people. And not just humans. Many had suffered in M’Brai’s factories, stripping precious minerals from the things had vanished from Milgrom Salvage’s books. As Oriana jogged through the dust toward him, he pushed those thoughts away. The Lawsons had gone above and beyond the call of duty on Bekenstein, were still offering their help to match the many orphans, the old, the wounded and uncared for to those that had been rescued from Mokua.

“Samara says she’ll see you around,” Oriana said, peeling her breather mask off and smearing soot on her face. He reached out to rub her cheek and she laughed. “Buy me a drink first,” she teased.

“And face your sister? No way.” He watched Samara climb into her shuttle. “What did she say about M’Brai’s untimely demise?”

“She thinks we did the right thing,” Oriana bristled. “We did.”

“I’m not arguing with you, Ori. I’m just wondering how I’m going to write this whole damned thing up for Admiral Alenko. He hates when they don’t go to court.”

A cold expression settled on Oriana’s face and she wiped some dust from her sleeve. “The woman deserved to die.”

Maybe that’s not for us to say, James didn’t tell her. Alenko was going to chew him out for this one, no mistake. “I’ve authorised transport for you on the Normandy,” he said. “We’re leaving in a few days. Quickest way back to Earth.”

At this, Oriana grimaced. “I’d come but . . . Miri’s not finished here.”

Tilting his head to the side, James scrutinised Oriana’s face, searching for an explanation. “Has she taken a liking to the Bek?”

Oriana shook her head. “No. She just wants to see that everyone finds their family. She’s taken in one of the kids, ‘fostering him’, she says. He’s called Sam.”

“Ah,” James resisted the urge to smile, watching the ash in the crease of Oriana’s nose as she frowned.

“She’s looking for Sam’s parents but at the moment we still can’t even figure out if he was supposed to have any, if he was always an orphan or what. I keep thinking that one day she’s going to find what she’s looking for and then she’ll have to hand him over to his parents. That’s going to kill her.”

James nodded, wondering what Admiral Alenko might make of that in his report. “Well we Spectres have quite a lot of authority. You just keep me in mind if you need to make something legal, fast.”

Oriana sighed heavily. “She wants to do it right, James. She’s still atoning.”

“I get that,” James said softly. He offered her a wan smile.

“I don’t,” she muttered. “I don’t,” she insisted when he raised his eyebrows. “I don’t get the children thing. I don’t get the guilt. She did what she thought was right at the time and our father’s actions are _not_ her fault. But I especially don’t get the kid thing. She has it wrapped up in her rooms in the hotel, everytime it cries she’s there, she’s barely getting half the work done she wants to . . . and she’s happy, James. She loves the kid, even though it might be taken back off her. I don’t get it.” Oriana dragged her hands through her short hair, shaking her head. “You know, I don’t think she realises she saved us all. If she hadn’t brought Shepard back, we’d all be dead. Shepard gets to be good because Miranda dirtied her hands.”

“I think Shepard’s hands are dirty enough,” James said softly. He elbowed Oriana, teasing a smile from her. “I’m all for the kid. Lola’s always asking me pointed questions about when I’m settling down. If Miranda picks up a rugrat, I figure the pressure’s off me for a while. Come on. How about that drink?”

Oriana contemplated him for a moment, sucking in a slightly ragged breath. She nodded, looping an arm through his. “Now you’re speaking my language, Mr Vega.”  


	4. All But the Fence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaidan never thought too much about the future. His ideas of a family were picturesque and unreal. After the war, this changes.

All But the Fence

Late 2194

Before. Before, for the longest time, he never thought about what kind of a settling down he might have. Before, in his long youth, he had only the vaguest knowledge of family, from his limited sample pool of his own, and those of the few poor souls he’d captured in his orbit however briefly. But there came a time when he did turn his thoughts to a life beyond the one he had. His model was his family, his long suffering mother, his ornery and disapproving father, and a house on a bay with sand that stuck on the decking no matter how many times it was swept.

Children? Maybe. They appeared when summoned by his mind, for his mother to cluck over, for his partner of the time to look attractive while they lifted some cheerful toddler with a smile on their face. In his mind’s eye, this was often in slow motion, with the breeze from the bay whipping hair over their face or catching at their shirt tails.

When Shepard came into his life, he rarely allowed her to be featured in this occasional daydream. She was far too mercurial a force in his heart to allow unprotected in this fragile fantasies. He knew, in an abstract way, that she was from a large family. He knew that to her ‘family’ meant a full house with always someone dropping by. He even knew that she wanted children, actively wanted them. She’d mentioned it once when Ash had loudly declaimed the idea.

“I want kids, Chief.”

“Commander?” Ash had sat upright in her seat, staring with wide brown eyes at their new leader.

“I want kids someday.” Shepard had shrugged one shoulder and reached for her drink, quieter than usual, uncomfortable, he would later realise. “Not now, but someday. Kids. Dogs. Cats. The white picket fence. I want the whole shebang. Later. When the galaxy’s safe.”

And Ash had fallen silent so it was left to Kaidan to clear the air. He did so with a joke about his fathering abilities, one that had made Shepard smile and jokingly assure him he was crossed off her list then.

Years later, in her long recovery, they spent many nights discussing their childhoods, recovering normalcy in their fortified home on Mars, staving off nightmares by naming long dead family members. Sometimes they embraced, sometimes they did not. Sometimes they sat together on the bed, pillows piled up behind them, toast or a mug of tea held on one or another one’s lap. In these ways they would discuss what they had lost. For him, the pain was fresh, as he realised any children they may have would know no grandparents.

But then, so few did, these days.

His mother. His father. They were a poor model for him and Shepard, he understood that in his heart. His parents had a quiet love, an enduring sort of love, a love that picked itself up and carried on when it was knocked aside by a careless word or tempestuous son. Kaidan knew that he and Shepard had an entirely different connection, one that lived on those knocks and shakes, one that fed on itself like a pressurised reaction.   It was a synergy that his parents never possessed.

All the same – the cats were a surprise.

They weren’t cats, really. He had been at a meeting with Jondum Bau discussing some of their newer Spectre candidates – including a quarian who had distinguished himself in the War and only just returned to the Sol system, bringing with him a small, hard crew of soldiers he had wrangled into some sort of team. The message had blipped on Kaidan’s omnitool, simply: Hello darling, you like cats, right?

“Something wrong?” Bau asked.

Kaidan shook his head, flicking the omnitool off. “Just another day in the Shepard-Alenko household,” he muttered.

Bau laughed, his old lungs wheezing slightly. “Something explode?”

The cats, it turned out, were not Terra cats at all. Instead he returned home to find Councillor Tevos sitting on his sofa, Sparatus playing with the baby and Shepard on the floor with two small, scaly, green, four-legged squalling lizards. Tevos rose from the sofa to greet Kaidan with a kiss on the cheek. “Spectre Alenko,” she said warmly, with all the purring undercurrent that signified asari respect but never failed to raise eyebrows among uneducated humans. “Sparatus and I apologise for intruding.”

Sparatus seemed perfectly happy making faces at Edie and gently tickling her delicate ribs with his talons, so Kaidan only smiled at her. “Not at all, Tevos.”

Shepard was trying to make herself as small as possible, all the time cooing over the little square-faced creatures. “That’s not a cat,” he pointed out, going to greet his daughter by blowing a kiss against her belly.

“They’re from the Raloi delegation,” Sparatus revealed, brimming with amusement. “Bond mated kui’o’lat, they’re a token of respect and everlasting happiness, apparently.”

“Kui’o’lat, cat, pot _ay_ to, pot _ah_ to,” Shepard said, rubbing her hand along one ‘cat’s belly as it flopped onto its back, pawing at the air.

“Bond mated?” Kaidan asked.

“Neutered,” Sparatus assured him. “The Raloi insist they make excellent pets.”

“Why don’t you take them?” Kaidan muttered. He lifted Edie and held her close, listening to her gurgle to herself with joy as Sparatus continued to make faces at her.

“Oh Kaidan,” Shepard scolded. “Look at them. They’re adorable!” And she looked up at him with pouted lips and exaggerated eyes and they were as good as hers from then on. “Blasto and Bubin,” she added.

Tevos cocked her head to the side. “Which one is Blasto?”

“And how can you tell?” Sparatus added.

Kaidan knew he would regret it, but he said it anyway. “Well the little one’s Bubin, of course.”

“But isn’t Bubin the elcor? Or am I misremembering the vids?” Tevos was confused, and she never did understand the little quirk of the big name on the little cat. Kaidan made only token protest from then, silly questions about Edie’s safety, as if Shepard had not already considered these issues. Shepard wanted them, he had no real dislike of them, and so Blasto and Bubin became part of their little family, part of the life he had woven.

He did object to their being in the bedroom, especially when they decided it was warmest curled up between himself and Shepard and under the sheets, nestled between the pillows. He did object to their taking up Shepard’s lap when they sprawled on the sofa watching their namesakes on the screen. He found, much to his surprise, he didn’t object to their silent, night time vigils above Edie’s cot. He would check on Edie in the night and see two pairs of reflective eyes watching him from the shelf. They were always quiet. Always waiting in the same place. Sometimes, when he left again, he was sure he could hear them crooning softly. When he mentioned it to his wife, she suggested he extend the monitors to cover the cats too.

“That spoils the mystery, don’t you think?”

She’d raised her eyebrows and sipped her coffee.

“What? You don’t think there’s mystery?” he asked, reaching around her for the coffee pot.

Shepard rolled her eyes, ever exasperated by what she saw as his city-boy ways. “Honey, there’s no mystery to me, they’re guarding their family.”

“They are alien cats,” he had said, planting his hands on his hips and glaring at her. “How on earth would they have the selective breeding and the instincts and even the understanding of what a human baby is and how it needs to be protected?”

Shepard handed him a coffee cup. “They’re family, honey, that’s really more my point.”

In all his dreams and fantasies he never contemplated ‘protection’ for his family, taking for granted that Earth would always be safe. But he wasn’t raising his family on Earth and nothing was safe anymore. When Edie was born, the Council forwarded them a list of human nurses who specialised in high profile targets. The filename had made his stomach turn. To his surprise, Shepard had rebelled at first, spitting out caustic remarks about their need for an armed nanny while she paced the floor, feeding Edie and transferring her rage to the baby.

They had nannies. That was something he hadn’t expected but now knew they needed. And with their jobs, they needed security. But that didn’t mean they needed Louisa, the tall, muscled, cold nanny who planted Edie in the arms of her parents with a commentary of her day like a marine might give a SitRep. But nor did they need Calvin, who seemed to think he was Edie’s father and had to be told to leave at the end of the day and who insisted on running emergency drills even in the middle of naptime. Calvin did not last long. They were muddling along with Isobel when Shepard gave birth to David.

David. All over again, Kaidan was faced with the tiny, fragile cocoon of flesh and bones that somehow housed his entire heart and soul. The parts that he had thought wholly devoted to Shepard and Edie were fractured once more, growing to fill the vacuum David had created. Shepard leaned against his shoulder, gazing down at the hours’ old baby in his arms, blinking big bruised eyes at what they’d created. “Two’s good, right?” she murmured.

“Hmm.” He bent his head to the cap of fine, dark hair on David’s head and inhaled. “Maybe one more?”

She chuckled, wincing as she did so.

“You feeling okay?” he asked, lifting his arm over her shoulders. She nodded, inspecting their new addition with half closed eyes. “You know, we need a better nanny,” he murmured.

“I’m open to suggestions.”

It was his turn to nod. The idea that had been forming in the back of his mind solidified. Their family needed protection. And it had to be the best.

Matriarch Alainne A’Voni was not easily found. It took more sweettalking and schmoozing than Kaidan would have cared to admit, more dead ends and favours granted, but finally a lead from Samara led him to message A’Voni. When Alainne agreed to meet him on Bastion, he wasn’t sure what to expect. The lanky asari strode into the bar and flashed him a smile with pearly teeth, signalling to a young maiden of her species that she wanted a drink.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been in human space,” she said, jerking her head in the direction of the nearest star-filled window. “But when a Justicar vouches personally for your character . . .” her smile grew.

“Samara speaks very highly of your combat skills.”

At that, Alainne laughed, a gritty peal of amusement that put him immediately in mind of his wife. She sipped her drink and nodded, eyes still twinkling merrily. “Maybe. I’ve lived a few of your lifetimes, Admiral. I’ve forgotten a lot.” She nodded to herself. “And I’ve raised a few children too. Looked after other asari’s offspring. I even nannied a krogan once, not that there’s much need for my services on Tuchanka anymore.” She reached up to brush violet head tendrils. “Thanks to your wife. My father was a krogan. Distantly related to the Urdnots, I believe. Sometimes I think it was her who passed on my proficiency for caring.”

Kaidan tried not to look surprised. “Most people don’t talk about krogan like that.”

“Most people don’t know them like I do,” Alainne responded. “My father was a wonderful person. I miss her everyday, but she died before your race had even touched the stars. I’ve been doing this job for a very long time, Admiral. Even Who You Are isn’t quite enough to bring me onboard. Tell me about your family.”

He suppressed a laugh. He didn’t say ‘who said we wanted you?’ Instead, he brought out his omnitool and showed off his latest collection of pictures. “There’s Edie first. She’s just turned four and she is a little madam. Too clever for her own good, reminds me of my own dad and of Shepard and of me and, well, also of a donkey that’s planted its feet and doesn’t want to go somewhere. She’s stubborn. She’s smart. Already figuring out how to apply all that Shepard charm. She thinks David is her personal toy, he’s just about nine months now, longer out than in, and beginning to become a little person, you know?”

Alainne nodded, her smile secretive. Whatever memories this brought to her mind were for her alone.

“He’s clever too, I think. Maybe that’s just me. Looks a little bit more like Shepard, I think. He’s got her face. Edie always looked like me, for her sins.”

“I think she has some of her mother in her,” Alainne said, brows quirking together. “I see Shepard in her.”

“They both argue in the same way,” Kaidan offered. “The basic argument being: I’m right and the world’s wrong.”

Alainne listens to his stories of his family and he talked into the night part of Bastion’s cycle. Alainne placed her palms flat on the table and contemplated her empty glass for a moment. “Admiral Alenko. I would like to meet your family.”

Alainne A’Voni joined them. Not a nanny or a guard, but the aunts and uncles who were long since dead. The grandparents who never held their grandchildren. Kaidan wasn’t sure how it happened but he knew it had when he came home from work one evening before his wife. Alainne was sitting on the sofa, Blasto in her lap and Bubin chasing the toys that sailed through the air in a biotic field, David clapping his hands and laughing at their antics. Edie ran to meet him, hands outstretched for a hug. Alainne tilted her head so she could greet him with a smile, concentrating on his son. Just like family would.

It wasn’t his wife who brought up their need for a dog to complete the picture. It was Edie. She did it quite literally, presenting him one day with a family portrait, five stick figures (one drawn in purple crayon), Blasto and Bubin distinctly more cat-like in their representations and a dog with floppy brown ears and a long curling tail. Kaidan looked over her head to find Shepard was smirking into her morning news report on her omnitool. “Did you put her up to this?”

“You won’t believe me if I say ‘no’,” Shepard returned with a shrug.

They spoiled their kids. He knew that. He also knew that they were so lucky to have them. When Edie led her brother towards him and David said, with some difficulty, “dog!” he knew he was entirely defeated.

Shepard joked about Urz’s latest litter but she conceded that fighting stock wasn’t a suitable pet even for the Shepard-Alenkos. Unlike the cats, this one was researched. They spent time poring over dog breeds, looking for affection, for a dog that would cope with their station life, looking for something that wouldn’t try and eat Blasto and Bubin.

This hunt led them to the Snub Nosed Retriever, a breed that had originated from Elysium. Shepard’s demand was that they rescue one from a shelter and so they took in Lou – “That’s a dreadful name for a dog,” Shep had grumbled – the flat faced fluffy black bear that masqueraded as a dog. On his hind feet he could place his front paws on Kaidan’s shoulders and he liked to do so. He was also quite content to lie in front of the fireplace, Edie using his stomach as a pillow, David in repose on his back, Blasto and Bubin batting idly at his tail while Shepard and Kaidan watched the latest game on the extranet. He would raise his head when Shepard yelled or Kaidan swore and he would blink enormous brown eyes at them in reproach.

They never did get a fence. 


	5. Glass Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The turian press calls her 'Glass Face', the quarian who stole one of their leaders. A Glass Face can't be trusted, no politician can.

**2197**

 

 “Mama!”

Tali felt a grin tugging on her cheeks when she heard the shriek. She held her hands up, arms spread as her turian son sprinted across the playground, his head down and his legs barely carrying him quickly enough over the slabs of metal. He launched himself into her arms and she swung him around, delighting in his giggles and cries as she tossed him into the air and caught him, pulling him back into the safety of her embrace and holding on tightly. “I missed you, Rael.”

“And I missed you.” He tapped his long fingers against her face plate and clicked his mandibles. “Why are you wearing this, Mama?” His tone turned from delight to concern. “Are you sick?”

“No, darling,” she settled him on one hip, realising again that he would soon be too big for this, and started to walk under the leafy trees that lined Bastion’s streets.

“Then why?” he prompted, rapping on the glass and making her jerk her head backwards. He pulled at her veil too. “I want to see you,” he complained.

“So like your father,” she teased, ticking under the hard ridge of his carapace. “Sometimes I like to wear my suit. I wore it for a very long time.”

Rael clunked his head against her mask, rattling her skull. Her wince was concealed by the face plate and she patted his back. He only wanted to be close to her, his fingers playing with her veil. “You miss it,” he concluded.

“Sometimes,” she agreed. They had made it across the bridge, so much of Bastion was modelled on the Citadel that these green and blue spaces sometimes made Tali feel as though she was walking through time, when someone called her name.

“Hey, it’s Edie,” Rael started to wriggle in an attempt to get down but Tali held him still.

She turned to see Kaidan marching towards her, his daughter running to keep up with his long strides. “Tali Zorah, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Kaidan swore at her, his brows furrowed.

“Not now, Kaidan,” she said in a low voice, glancing at his daughter. Edie was watching both of them with big, brown eyes that saw far too much. Rael, at least, was still trying to reach his friend.

“Well it’s going to have to be some time,” Kaidan spat at her, “How could you do this to her?”

Anger sparked in her gut and she clenched her fist against Rael’s spine. “There are more things at stake than _just Her_!” she grated out. “My people deserve some recognition.”

Edie reached up to tug on Kaidan’s hand. Tali could have kissed the girl. Kaidan’s armour of rage melted the moment she touched his hand and he reached for her, picking her and her school bag up. “Sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to shout,” he assured his daughter. Edie’s gaze found Tali’s, unerring through the glass, and Tali nodded her head at the child. “We’ll talk later,” Kaidan added to Tali, a hint of the anger returning.

“Why is Uncle Kaidan angry?” Rael whispered as she continued on her way. “Is it because you went to see the colony?”

“It doesn’t matter, Uncle Kaidan just doesn’t like it when Aunty Shepard’s upset,” she assured Rael. Her back was aching but she didn’t want to set him down just yet. “He’ll come round.” Behind her face plate, she could hide her doubt.

***

Justis was as pleased as Rael was to have her home early. They hadn’t expected to see her for weeks and they were eager to show her how they had missed her. In their apartments’ clean rooms, Justis and Rael played together, Justis free of a suit. Like his brother, Justis was curious to see her fully suited up, running his hands over the face plate and the tubes connecting helmet to suit. She helped the nanny serve them their dinner, sat with Rael and worked through his homework with him and then tucked in both her children and watched them drop off to sleep before roaming the apartment, picking up abandoned toys and replacing a throw rug over the back of the sofa. With nothing else she could face doing, she curled up on the large armchair by the fire and continued reading the book that had lasted her on the journey back from the quarian colony in the Horse Head Nebula. The words blurred and jumped on her omnitool’s screen, making each page last a long time.

Bastion was well into its night cycle when Garrus entered the apartments. He groaned softly when he locked the doors behind him, tugging at the collar of his formal wear, moving stiffly into the living room. When he saw her, his mandibles arranged themselves into a turian smile. “It’s good to see you again,” he told her, crossing the floor to reach her and resting his forehead against her face plate. “I missed you. So did the kids.”

She closed her eyes, her eyelids stinging with the dry air of her suit. “I missed you too,” she murmured.

Garrus kicked off his boots and sat in the opposite chair, letting his arms hang over the sides, closing his eyes. “You still know how to cause trouble,” he said. “Sparatus and Victus have been yelling themselves hoarse at me.”

“Don’t you start. Kaidan gave me an earful when I was picking up Rael from school.”

Garrus’ eyes snapped open and he sat forward. “He did what? Who does he think he is?”

“Spectre Prime, Systems Alliance Admiral, conduit to You Know Who,” she said airily.

“That doesn’t give him the right to attack you at the school,” Garrus responded, his mandibles flaring in anger. “I should talk to him.”

“That’s not going to help anyone,” Tali pointed out. “This is politics, not personal.”

“It’s personal when Kaidan makes it personal,” but Garrus was already subsiding. He ran a hand over his fringe, staring at the embers of the fire. “Tali . . . you know I love you. You know I support you, no matter what. But this colony has made a lot of people very unhappy.”

“Because the quarians aren’t taking their raps like they used to?” Tali could hear the venom in her voice. “They salvaged that colony, they have the right to settle it.”

“But it was a human colony.” Garrus took a deep breath. “If it hadn’t been for those mercenaries, it would _still_ be a human colony. You know Shepard gets about colonies. The Council . . . everyone is reminded of Shepard when a colony is attacked.”

“ _We_ didn’t attack it.”

“But you are reaping the benefits. Laying your claim on what was human ground.” Garrus held his hands up as her head snapped around to face him. “I didn’t mean ‘you’ personally. I meant . . .” he sighed heavily.

“You mean that because I’m standing up for my people, as a Councillor, you have had to answer to your turian military buddies who still beg for the humans to validate them.” She got to her feet. “The quarians aren’t going to wait for the humans to grant them a spit of land. We will take what was denied us for so long.”

Their home, with all the quarian fabrics and turian lines, the photos of friends and family, the boxes of antiseptic wipes that sat on each coffee table and the air filter that hummed softly, Tali had never felt so lost in it. She stared at her gloved hands, waiting for Garrus to tell her he was siding with Shepard on this one.

“I’m going to sleep out here tonight,” she said as the silence stretched on. “I’m . . . I’m still too wired.”

Garrus sighed. “I’ve never minded you keeping me awake, Tali Zorah vas Vakarian.” This last was said teasingly, a nickname that had never really taken. He rose to go to bed, pressed his forehead against her helmet once more, and said “I love you,” at the doorway.

Tali curled her arms around her legs and stared into the fire. Her dreams, when they came in snatches, were all of a ship that was slowly shrinking around her, the hull constricting her naked body, and all the time she struggled against it, she knew a geth unit was prowling, searching for her.

***

Councillor Urdnot Mawar laughed, pounding her meaty fists on the table, making Tali’s skin crawl. The suit wasn’t enough to hide her from the krogan’s good cheer. “Good!” Mawar insisted. Across the table, Tevos was shifting uncomfortably while Valern was regarding their krogan colleague with narrowed eyes.

“Mawar, this is precisely the kind of behaviour that makes me regret allowing younger races onto the Council,” Valern announced.

“Ha!” Mawar pounded the table once again, water glasses shivering. “As if you had a choice!”

Those around the table looked at Tali, almost accusing her of this too. She kept her face impassive, even with the glass between her and the world, training herself. The volus Councillor wheezed and turned to Valern. “I am not sure. What the point of this debate. Truly is? Without Councillor Shepard. We should not be here.”

Sparatus snorted, inelegant and boorish. He leaned closer to say something private to Tevos. The old guard, Tali thought, like the Admirals. We were here first therefore we get to shout loudest.

Mawar was shaking her large, wedge shaped head. “This is simply a discussion, there’s no need to call your little goddess down here.”

“That is not! What I meant!” Emmis Von wheezed out.

At this Sparatus rose to his feet, recalling the councillors to their duty with one glare of his cool eyes. “Urdnot Mawar. Refrain from personal insults while at this table.” He waited for Mawar to nod before continuing. “We are here to discuss the quarian expansion policy, _in general not in its specificities_.” This was said with a glare at Valern. “There is no need for every Councillor to be present and if we continue in this manner I will ask certain Councillors to leave. Now, unless somebody wishes to convene a hearing,” his tone threatened violence to those who might, “and we will need to seek out Councillors M’ki’tat, Roiden and Zarn as well, I see no reason to attack Councillor Shepard.”

“Hear, hear,” Vella said. The drell turned back to Tali. “What we wish to know, Councillor Zorah, is how many of our colonies and settlements are going to be co-opted by the quarians the moment our backs are turned?”

And so the arguments went round again.

 

The Councillors didn’t tire of their accusations until the early evening. Tali made her escape while it was good, grabbing a skytaxi and heading out into Bastion’s wards, losing herself in the crowds, faceless and hidden behind her suit.

She couldn’t blame her fellow Council members. They were all on the same ship, as Garrus would say. They could not influence their governments, but they had to keep the other races from going to war over every slight. They could not ignore the slights of the past, but desperately needed one another to maintain enough strength to govern. In a few weeks time she would be on the other side and they would be attacking Mawar for the krogan expansions, or denying Tevos the aid the asari so desperately needed, or refusing to repay Sparatus the money the turians had spent during the War. And where was Shepard? It was true that unless a hearing was called, Councillors could pick and choose what to attend. Not all meetings needed everyone, but under the circumstances . . . She should have been there.

Tali lingered in the depths of Bastion. She bought some toys for her children and a capacitor mod for Garrus, took a seat on a bench and watched the people walking by.

The Citadel still existed, as scrap and salvage, slowly being reconstructed in the Sol system. Bastion, here in Arcturus, had consumed the Citadel’s soul and Tali saw members of every race walking by, from elcor to raloi, turian to vorcha. No batarians of course, they were too busy with their slow death in Kite’s Nest. That all races join the Council was Shepard’s insistence, a little like their continued existence was Shepard’s insistence.

For a moment, she felt the sensation from her dreams, of a ship shrinking around her and a geth hunter pursuing her, somewhere unknown, a blip on the radar but still unseen.

Her omnitool beeped. Liara. Wanting to talk, ostensibly. Tali almost laughed. If anyone simply wanted to talk, it would be Liara. The woman had somehow managed to retain a complete disinterest in politics, while collecting dirt on every single one of them. Perhaps it was for the best. If Liara had thoughts on who was right she might be tempted to use everything she knew. Without quite meaning to, Tali messaged her to say she would be round soon.

Liara lived not too far from Tali herself, and only another ten minutes’ ride from Shepard’s home. Every time Tali found herself in T’Soni’s home, she felt a mounting need to start tidying. If it wasn’t Rallik’s toys or datapads piled precariously on a table, it was empty coffee cups and bowls with half finished meals lying around. Liara seemed to feel no need to be presentable for guests, perhaps it was an asari thing, or perhaps that drive was a quarian thing.

“I’ve been reading your book,” Tali announced as she entered.

“Oh? The latest?” Liara strode over a bunched up rug and nearly tripped on a terminal that was lying behind the sofa for no discernible reason. “What do you think?” She greeted Tali by embracing her.

“You know I like it,” Tali assured her. “Where’s Rallik?”

“Oh, Alainne is taking Edie and David to the park and offered to take Rallik too.” Liara headed for the kitchen. “Can I tempt you with anything? I don’t have much dextro . . .”

“Nothing, thanks.” Tali followed her none the less, pleased to find the kitchen was at least a little tidier. “And Javik?”

“Wandering,” Liara said, with only a hint of exasperation. “Last I heard from him he was in the Widow nebula, exploring , but  I expect he’ll need to search a few more places before he feels he can come back.” She filled a kettle while she talked, nothing about her betraying any concern for this behaviour.

“What is he searching for?” Tali hopped up onto the counter and watched Liara make the tea.

“I think he looks for the Prothean Empire,” Liara said softly, searching for one particular mug that had come from the _Normandy_. “Or shadows of it. Sometimes I think he just searches for a reason.”

“A reason for what?” Tali pressed.

With a shrug, Liara made her tea. “That I haven’t figured out. He’ll come back. He always does. Anyway, what’s with the suit? Not feeling well?”

Tali sighed heavily, fogging the glass plate. “Yes,” she lied. “A bit of a cold.”

“Oh.” Liara frowned, sipping her tea. “That’s a shame.”

Tali swung her dangling feet, staring at the pictures pinned to the fridge. “Look at us,” she said suddenly. “I think I’ve got the same damned pictures on my fridge. Shepard’s got them too. A sun and a house and a little girl waving, I don’t even have girls and my children still draw it! Have you ever noticed that you can’t tell turian from quarian in a child’s stick figure? Human, asari, we’re just drawn in different colours if we’re lucky. And it’s always sunny in these children’s pictures. I’m the quarian who won back Rannoch and my children are being raised on a space station.”

“The only quarian?” Liara asked, amused. “Raan would love to hear that.”

“You know what I mean!”

Liara chuckled, glancing over her shoulder at Rallik’s paintings. “One of those was Javik’s,” she volunteered, making Tali snort with laughter. “Honestly!”

“You are awful,” Tali informed her friend.

“Ha.” Liara stared at the pictures some more. “I’d never thought about it before, but you’re right. Children draw us all the same, don’t they? I wonder if it’s a cultural artefact, coming from multi species educational classes or if it’s more a developmental issue, the important things are the arms and the legs and the head . . .”

“Liara?”

“Hmm?”

“You haven’t even asked.”

Liara smiled at her. “Because you didn’t come here to talk about that, did you?” she said pityingly. “You’ll work it out.”

Tali glanced at her hands. “Kaidan said she . . .”

“You’ve been friends for too long for this to get between you,” Liara cut her off. She shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t take anything Kaidan says to heart. You know how he gets.” She frowned. “You haven’t spoken to Shepard yet, have you?”

Tali shook her head.

“Well.” Liara finished her tea as the door opened and Rallik shrieked a ‘hello’. “Hello!” Liara called back, leaving Tali in the kitchen. “How was she, Alainne?”

The matriarch was not one for mincing words and she gave a full report of Rallik’s behaviour while at the park, while Liara laughed and scolded her daughter alternately. Meanwhile, Edie entered the kitchen, her hair a wild, tangled mess and some dirt stuck to the knees of her coveralls. She glanced up at Tali with her father’s eyes but smiled. “Hello Aunty Tali,” she said quietly, standing on tip toes to reach the sink.

“Are you thirsty?” Tali asked, hopping down. When Edie nodded, Tali fetched a glass for her, filling it and crouching down beside her as she drank. “You look like you had fun today,” she said, pointing at another patch of mud of Edie’s sleeve.

Edie grinned, only a little guilty. She glanced over Tali’s shoulder then leaned in closer to whisper, “I hid from Rallik in a bush.”

Tali wished that Edie could see her trying not to laugh. Instead, she squeezed Edie’s shoulder. “Well I won’t tell.”

Edie flashed her another, bigger grin and placed the empty glass on the counter. “I should go,” she said, and she skipped back to Alainne.

***

When Tali returned home, Garrus had already fed the boys. She delivered her presents and received her gratitude, and even better watched her boys as they studied their new toys, rapt with delight. When the boys were abed and Garrus had finished calibrating the new capacitor, he approached her, crouched on the floor beside her chair, and stared through her omnitool’s screen. “What are you reading?”

“The Prothean Legacy,” she responded.

“Spirits,” Garrus groaned. “Don’t you have enough to depress you?”

She chuckled, pushing at him with the toe of her boot. “I like it. We should remember what happened to them.”

“If you say so,” Garrus responded. “I like my capacitor,” he said in a low voice. “Lots of extra power.”

She knew that voice very well. She shifted in her chair, letting her omnitool flicker off. “I hoped you would. To apologise for my behaviour yesterday.”

“Hmm.” Garrus’ hand was stroking her thigh now. “It’s funny seeing you in the suit again. Brings back some old memories . . .” his omnitool flared and she felt a distinct buzz of the nerve stimulation on the small of her back. “You still need better security on this.”

“Why? Only you can hack it,” she whispered bracing her arms on the chair as Garrus drew his hand down her leg. The suit’s systems sent pulses straight through her, strong, solid pulses that coaxed shivers from her skin, made her breath come in gasps. She remembered days on the Normandy, days filled with humans in Cerberus uniforms and a geth just a few bulkheads away. Garrus wrapped both hands around her waist as the pulses changed their pace and she wrapped her legs around his, bowing over his head. He was nuzzling her breasts, gently, not wanting to rip the suit. She squeezed her legs together, on the sensitive parts of his waist, ran her hands along the edges of his fringe. She reached up to break the seal on her face plate. “But in the old days,” she murmured, letting the glass drop the floor, “we couldn’t do this.” She kissed his hard cheek, and then started working on the next set of clasps.

***

 Councillor Shepard was waiting to collect her daughter from school the next afternoon. She stood under the trees, her arms folded, her foot tapping against the dirt. Tali froze when she saw her, her heart beating a double timr against her chest. She took a deep breath, lifting her face to the breeze of the air conditioning, and headed for the trees.

“Hey!” Shepard sounded surprised to see her, but she smiled all the same. She nodded towards the school yard. “I was so determined to get here on time I’m early. Edie’s been so worried about this play they’re doing, she was up half the night asking what would happen if she didn’t get the part she wanted.” Shepard shook her head in exasperation.

“Rael doesn’t want any of the parts, he’s told me so,” Tali responded, surprised at how easily this conversation was happening. “The thought of standing on a stage? It’s not his idea of fun.”

Shepard was nodding, chewing on a thumbnail as she stared at the swings and the see-saw. She glanced at Tali, eyes narrowed. “I, uh, I hear you had a run in the other day with my better half?”

With a little snort, Tali nodded. “Yes I did.”

“Sorry,” Shepard offered.

“Don’t worry about it.” The doors were opening and the children of Bastion’s officials and richest citizens started to pour outside. “Vakarians have tough skin.”

“And Alenkos are quick to anger,” Shepard agreed. She leaned in a little closer. “Good think I’m not an Alenko.”

“And I’m not a Vakarian,” Tali murmured. She spotted her son trailing his stuffed elcor along behind him as he daydreamed. “I don’t want this to come between us.”

Shepard gave her the big smile that Edie had inherited and stepped forward to greet her daughter. “Tali,” she said with mock disgust. “When would something like that ever come between us?”

“Momma!” Edie cried out in triumph, stretching up to hug her mother and deliver a kiss to her cheek. “I’m going to be playing the part of Shiagur!”

“Perfect casting!” Shepard responded, taking Edie’s hand. “David will be jealous. Shall we walk home with Aunty Tali and Rael?”

Edie hesitated. “I wanted to see if we could get a costume,” she volunteered.

“I don’t take it personally,” Tali assured her with her a little bow.

Shepard laughed and nodded. “Okay, fair enough. We’ll go into the wards, does that suit you?”

“Yes!” Edie started to bounce on her toes. “And are you speaking to daddy yet?”

Shepard rolled her eyes in Tali’s direction. “Come on, Trouble, costumes first, politics later.”

Edie grinned and waved at Tali “Bye Aunty Tali!”

“Bye,” Tali waved back, taking her son’s hand.

“You’re feeling better!” Rael exclaimed, pointing at her uncoifed hair and bare face. “Good! Guess what? I’m going to be helping in the play, I’ve got to make sure that everyone has the right words to say and I’m going to help the teacher direct and-” this report went on in this fashion and Tali listened obligingly, nodding her head and making the right noises. Some things were worth being exposed for. 


	6. Krantt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krantt: A warrior's most trusted allies, to be called upon in times of peril.

**September through to December, 2198**

It took several months for a ship to cross from Tuchanka to Bastion. Aralakh’s relay was a terminal relay and terminal relays were not priorities. Better to get the hub relays working, so ships could pass in multiple directions, even if they couldn’t necessarily return so quickly. Asides from some grumbling for political reasons, Wrex couldn’t say he was unhappy about Aralakh’s forced remoteness. His people were still regarded with great suspicion and his house was by no means in order. The isolation suited him. It gave him time to work, time to prepare the krogan for their new place on the galactic stage.

But now he cursed the damned relays and the Reapers and FTL and biotics and eezo and the Void itself. Shepard needed him, damn it, and he was too far away to be any good.

He paced the quarters of the salarian ship he’d harangued into taking him to Bastion. He attempted to draft policies, knowing he was abandoning important work on Tuchanka to run to Shepard’s side. When news had reached them, Bakara had turned to Wrex and told him he had to go. She would stay on Tuchanka. He would have liked to have been able to protest, to say Bakara was a friend of Shepard’s too, a friend who arguably had more experience with this but –

_“There have been some complications”_

Tali’s message had been sent by QEC. Since leaving Tuchanka, Wrex had heard no updates.

_“There have been some complications”_

Humans were so small, so softy, so squishy. And human babies were so large.

Once, in Wrex’s youth, he had captured a female. She had been much, much older than him and prized for her fertility. She had three children, so it was said, although one had been killed in an act of vengeance against the father. Claiming her had been Wrex’s first great victory and he had been so proud of himself, preening his crest and roaring that he hadn’t been surprised at all when she had flung herself at him. Today, on a salarian cruiser, Wrex had enough experience to laugh at the young buck he had been. The female had him under her thumb almost immediately and he would have thrown himself in front a mass accelerated round for her. She used his love for her to secure a base on Tuchanka. One day, she even told him she was pregnant. He had been so proud, so strong in his youth and conviction, that he had sworn their children would be the strongest on all Tuchanka and none of her cautions could sober him.

_“There have been some complications.”_

The child was still born, of course. Wrex couldn’t remember if it had been a daughter or a son, it had been many years ago and she hadn’t wanted him to see the tiny, misshapen body. She had buried the child, in the dead dirt, and returned to offer him comfort. He woke, later in the night, to hear her weeping softly on the other side of the room. He had left not long after, those dreams buried too. We are a dead species, he had thought, we just don’t know it yet.

_Wrex. There have been some complications. Shepard’s biotics have been really acting up and she had some kind of haemorrhage, I don’t really understand. Chakwas says she’s going to be fine now but we’re not sure about the baby. Kaidan hasn’t left the hospital, we’ve got Edie and David. I’ll keep you updated. This kind of thing doesn’t really happen with us, Wrex. I’m so scared. – Tali_

 

At the docks of Bastion station he wasn’t greeted by a legion of mourners, but he hadn’t expected that. The universe would have let him know if she was dead. He would have known. Somehow.  He was greeted by their councillor, Urdnot Mawar. She watched him with narrowed eyes, her hump bristling as he approached. “I hope you’re here to lobby for our cruiser,” she said in a dark voice.

“You know why I’m here,” he grunted, pushing past her. “The politics will wait.”

“You’re a fool if you believe that,” Mawar told him. Nevertheless, she had her Council Car waiting. “Councillor Shepard is fine. Back on her feet,” Mawar started when they were safely in the privacy of the shielded car. “The Council was briefed on her situation. There were complications throughout the pregnancy and she’d been taking a lot of time off.” Mawar sounded resentful. “All the same, this was surprising. The child was ill, taking to the eezo badly. It is still in hospital. There are tumours on its lungs, that’s the biggest complication at the moment, but I believe there are tumours within its brain too. They’re trying to remove some of the eezo nodules too, I believe, they think the nodules are causing the fits.”

“The fits?” Wrex craned his neck to see the residential areas beneath them.

“Yes, the other big complication. Shepard is weak, but she’ll survive. The doctors want her to rest but she won’t.”

Wrex said nothing. The car landed close to Shepard’s home and Mawar let him leave without further statements of doom. Wrex took a moment to observe the street, the security droids that hovered nearby, the sensors that nestled behind the foliage. The Shepard residence was secured behind armoured bulkheads, designed to look indistinguishable from others. He had to pass through two security VIs before he was allowed in the front door.

He could smell Shepard, her stress and unhappiness. The hallway was dark, children’s coats piled atop one of the chairs. He could hear the thunder of small feet as Edie rounded the corner, David not far behind her, “Uncle Wrex!” she shrieked, and propelled herself toward him with speed. “We didn’t know you were coming!”

He swooped both of them up into his arms. “Look at you, you have grown so big,” he said, and he caught sight of Alainne rounding the corner, smiling at him with relief. “Where is your mother?” he asked Edie, tickling her neck by nuzzling his nose in there.

“Momma’s in the living room. She was sleeping. Daddy’s still at the hospital though.”

“It’s very good to see you,” Alainne added as he carried the pair of children through the hall. “When Bakara said you were coming . . .” she restrained herself from finishing, glancing at the children. “David, Edie, why don’t we go to the shops and pick up some food for your Uncle Wrex? Why don’t you go and tell your mother that’s what we’re going to do?”

Immediately, Edie burrowed further into Wrex’s arms and let out a plaintive wail that upset her brother. “I don’t _want_ to go out! I _always_ have to go out! It’s not _fair_!” Wrex shot Alainne a look and the nanny sighed heavily, saved from answering as they entered the living room.

Shepard was lying on the sofa, pale and very gaunt. She smiled up at Wrex and held out her arms. “Edie, you can stay with Wrex and me, that’s fine.”

Edie nearly kicked Wrex in her struggle to get down and to her mother. She clambered onto Shepard’s lap and pulled a pillow over her lap, frowning up at Alainne in defiance. Shepard laughed softly and kissed the top of Edie’s head. “Are you feeling neglected, love?”

“I’m seven,” Edie grumbled. “I can know about Tom.”

At this, Alainne pressed her lips into a disapproving line and removed David from Wrex’s care. “Call me if you need me,” she said to Shepard, and she squeezed Wrex’s shoulder before leaving. “See if you can get her to eat something.”

“I’m not an invalid,” Shepard sulked, sounding as grumpy as her daughter. While Alainne removed the toddler from the home, Wrex found himself at a loss. This place was familiar to him, Shepard’s home was always a welcoming place, with photos and souvenirs and more than a few model ships on shelves that were high out of the reach of small hands. But there was a pall over the home, something barely detectable, just a whiff of medicine in the air, a quietness where usually there was chatter.

The two small alien cats were sitting on the back of the sofa, curled up together and watching Shepard with glowing eyes. The big dog came lolloping towards him, wagging its tail as he bent to rub its ears.

“We’re all okay,” Shepard started to say. “The baby is called Tom. He’s okay.”

“No he’s not,” Edie protested. “Or he’d be home.” When her mother tried to shush her she muttered “well it’s not true.”

With one final pat of the dog’s head, Wrex approached the pair. “You look tired, Shepard.”

The woman he thought of as a sister rubbed her face, her hand over her eyes for a long time. Wrex could smell the salt of tears. “It’s so . . .” she bit the words off and hugged Edie. “He will be okay. The doctors are helping him.” She smiled at her daughter’s doubtful face. “I promise you he will be okay.”

“You Shepards are strong,” Wrex added, reaching forward to tickle Edie’s ribs. “I’m not worried.”

Blue eyes and brown eyes stared at him, and both pairs were smiling. Shepard sighed. “These last three months have been hell, Wrex. At first,” she bit her lip and shook her head. Edie reached up to pat her cheek. “And I was ill. I didn’t see him for a day. I don’t know how Kaidan did it.”

“Daddy cried,” Edie added solemnly.

“And then they had to take him in for operations. I’m his mother, Wrex, I only had one job, I had to keep him safe and I didn’t. I worked the whole time, I didn’t take it easy-”

“Shepard,” Wrex said quickly, leaning forward and bringing his face down level with hers. Shepard and Edie’s smells were a heady mix of family in his nose. “It is not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” she muttered.

“No,” Edie said firmly. “You’re the best momma there is. And besides, you don’t know how to make someone sick.”

Suppressing his laughter, Wrex nodded. “Even you know how to do that. Take it from me, Shepard. This is not your fault.”

“Sorry, Wrex,” she said, two spots of colour rising high on her cheeks. “I didn’t think. Sorry.”

“No need to apologise.”

“What did you do?” Edie asked, wriggling to look up at both of them. “I don’t understand.”

“Your mother,” Wrex said, “was responsible for giving my people hope. Have you heard about the genophage?”

Shaking her head, Edie stared up at him with bright, eager eyes. “Tell me!”

Wrex nodded, catching Shepard’s fond exasperation. “A long time ago, somebody made my people sick. And it made our babies sick. A little like your little brother is ill now. And it made us very sad for a very long time.” He watched Shepard. “As sad as your family is now, we felt worse, because our babies didn’t always live. And when I met your mother, she promised me she would make us better. And she did. And now we have lots of babies. She cured the genophage and became my sister, and that is why you and all of your family will always be welcome on Tuchanka.” 

Edie beamed and leaned into her mother’s embrace.

“And,” Wrex intoned gravely, “it is why I know that your mother did everything she could for Tom. He will be fine.”

“Tell me another story!” Edie was bouncing on Shepard’s lap, much to her mother’s amusement.

“Did I ever tell you about the time your mother fell through a fish tank?”

“She doesn’t need to hear that,” Shepard intervened, only to be ruthlessly overruled as Wrex went into gleeful detail of gunfire, little black dresses and astonished carp, Shepard gamely attempting to censor the more gruesome details for her daughter and flat out stopping Wrex before he got to any of the good bits with the clone and the explosions. “I think it’s time to go and see Tom, don’t you?” she asked Edie, lifting her daughter from her lap. “We try to make sure that one of us is always at the hospital with him, so we’ll go relieve Kaidan,” she added in an aside to Wrex. “Sweetie, go get your cardigan it’s cold out.”

“Then the internal climate controls are faulty,” Edie said, but scurried off to do what she was told anyway.

“You know, two weeks ago she got stuck in one of the vents while she was playing ‘save the Citadel’. Apparently Vega had been telling her stories of the Citadel Coup. I don’t want to have to retrieve my daughter from any fish tanks any time soon,” Shepard told him primly.

“Were you any different at her age?” Wrex didn’t continue as Edie ran back into the room, clutching a card she had made. “Is this for your brother?” he asked.

“Yup!” Edie grinned at her mother, eliciting a smile in return. “Can I get a ride on your shoulders, Wrex?”

“Of course!” And Shepard caught Edie up in a biotic field, lifting her gently up to Wrex’s hump.

 

It was a short ride through Bastion’s many train elevators towards the hospital. Edie kept up a running commentary of what had been happening in her short life since she had seen Wrex last. Occasionally Shepard would drop in with a tidbit of adult gossip, but for the most part she allowed her daughter to ramble, while she stared out of the window.

The staff at the hospital greeted Shepard and Edie with a cheery familiarity. Edie led the way, racing through the corridors until she reached a private room where her father scooped her up into a hug and cheering at the sight of her. Wrex was entirely distracted by the room. A holographic wall displayed a peaceful field under a shining sun, endless blue skies on the ceiling. There were dozens of handmade cards from Edie and David and any number of other children, as well as toys and blankets in one corner. But none of it drew attention from the little plastic cot in the middle of the room with computers to record every metric the tiny baby might put out. Wrex crept closer, confronted with a small, pale human child with two large, red scars criss crossing his prominent ribs.

Shepard placed her hand on Wrex’s shoulder as she approached. “He looks much better,” she told him softly.

“Hey, Wrex,” Kaidan greeted him. “It’s really good to see you.”

“I wish I could have come sooner,” Wrex said, softly, so as not to make the baby stir. Shepard drew up a chair beside the cot and placed her hand on the baby’s stomach, cooing softly.

Kaidan shrugged that off and helped Edie to place the newest card on a shelf. “Guess what, baby, good news. The nurses say we might be able to take Tom home at the end of the week if he stays strong.”

“Yay!” Edie cheered and Wrex checked Shepard’s face. She looked as though she wasn’t going to get her hopes up, but she smiled the moment Edie turned to her. “That’s good news.”

“Just a maybe, sweetheart,” Kaidan reminded his daughter, patting down her unruly hair.

Wrex stepped back to judge his old friends. Kaidan was pale and tired, he decided, he wasn’t sleeping well. And as ever, when Shepard was around, the knots inside the man seemed to unwind. As Wrex watched, Kaidan met his wife with a hand on her shoulder, relaying an incident report like they were back on the Normandy. Shepard placed her hand over Kaidan’s on her shoulder, listened to him while she kept her other hand on the baby. For her part, Shepard seemed bolstered by Alenko, stronger for his influence.

Thirteen years ago, he had been hearing some squalling clan leader out when a small scuffle broke out to the side of his dais. He hadn’t believed his eyes at first, the diminutive human was badly scarred, much like her son was today, and accompanied by a somewhat battered looking turian and a small, wizened salarian. But it was Shepard. He’d known it in his heart. She had brought the tank bred along too, encouraged Grunt to explore Tuchanka, to listen to his elders and betters. The tank bred had done so, reluctantly, and Wrex had found a Shepard who was seeking guidance herself. After slaughtering the thresher maw, she sat with him, drinking watered down ryncol, and asking what he thought of Cerberus.

_“They brought me back, Wrex. I can’t ignore that.”_

He had sucked in a breath, inhaling the night winds of Tuchanka, and waited for her to continue.

_“But they are **bastards**. The things they’ve done. To the flotilla. To the people on Akuze. I had friends there, god damn it. The Illusive Man has already stabbed me in the back. Maybe I should just turn away from this big, impressive ship, hand it in to the Alliance and wait to be redeployed. And if I do that, these Collectors are going to sweep through the Traverse and capture every human they find. I can’t let that happen, Wrex. I **can’t**.”_

He watched her drink with a vengeance and still didn’t speak.

_“And damn Kaidan!”_ She had got to her feet, pacing the rubble. “ _I don’t need his moralising to tell me how fucked up this whole situation is.”_ She groaned, clutching at her head. _“But damn if I can’t get his words out of my head! Maybe Cerberus is using the Collectors to control me. But I can’t turn my back on that. Wrex, I don’t know what to do.”_ She had turned back to face him, pouting in an expression that these days he recognised on Edie’s face so often.

Wrex had simply filled her cup. “ _You’ll find a way.”_

In the hospital, today, Shepard was still finding her way. She smiled up at him suddenly. “Would you like to hold him?” And before Wrex could protest, he was seated in the armchair with the baby human in his arms, wires and sensors carefully arranged to maintain their recording.

He had not long been settled when Chakwas entered. Much to Wrex’s surprise, Edie immediately took cover behind her mother’s legs and only peered out at Chakwas when the doctor was talking. He guessed a fear of doctors might be understandable for a girl whose brother was poked and prodded all hours of the day. Chakwas barely noticed him and immediately began rambling on in the medical lingua franca.

“Those damned asari doctors are too cautious,” she started, folding her arms and rocking back on her heels. “Hello, Wrex. If it was up to me, Tom would be home already.”

Wrex stole a quick glance at his friends and saw their stony expressions. “Why is it not up to you?” he asked Chakwas, carefully, trying to keep his voice low so he wouldn’t disturb Tom.

“Well I’m not a paediatrician, and I’m certainly not a specialist in neonatal care. I can only offer my expertise on biotics and second generation eezo exposure is not something any of us have any familiarity with in humans.” Chakwas grunted with irritation. “All the same, they’re being overcautious. I wouldn’t be surprised if you could take Tom home tomorrow.”

“Well,” Shepard frowned. “We’ll see.”

 

Bakara messaged him that evening via QEC, a reminder to play nice with the political bigwigs while he was on Bastion. So for the rest of the week, he played nice. One evening he played the savage chief for Tevos, knowing how she enjoyed playing the civilising hero over a dinner table. To conquer the turians, he enlisted Garrus’ help, enjoying an afternoon hunting virtual beasts on a facsimile of Palaven’s forests with Sparatus and half a dozen other turian generals. He cajoled a fragment of the quarian flotilla into heading to Tuchanka, begging for technical help and swearing for their safety in Aralakh’s orbit. Tali gave him hell for that when she found out. Mawar introduced him to the raloi delegate and he forged some new trade agreements with the new race by pretending to feel as marginalised on the galactic stage as they did.

And he spent every moment he could in his sister’s house and caring for her children.

It wasn’t the end of that week, but the week after when the cabal of doctors agreed that they probably wouldn’t lose their very important patient if he went home at last. Wrex could tell Shepard and Kaidan weren’t going to believe it until they had closed the door on the last healthcare worker and finally had their little family all to themselves. He suggested that he find other accommodation for a while and was immediately and vehemently shot down by both of them.

“Don’t you dare leave,” Kaidan said to him, in private over breakfast. He was fetching milk from the fridge while Wrex attempted to spoon some porridge into an uncooperative David, but it was almost private. “You have no idea what a help you’ve been.”

“I haven’t been doing much,” he grumbled, glad that his species had long ago lost a visible vasodilation on the skin surface so he wouldn’t blush.

“Don’t kid yourself,” Kaidan sighed deeply. “She was raised to believe your neighbours and your family are all you need. It kills her that we hire a nanny, at least she _likes_ Alainne. She sees you as family first. All these little things, picking up after the kids, holding Tevos at bay, they mean so much to her. I don’t care if Tuchanka goes to ruin while you’re here, I’ve still got a pretty decent stasis field I can use.”

“Stasayssssss!” David agreed, spitting gruel into Wrex’s eye.

 

 

“Don’t you dare leave,” Shepard said later that same day while attempting to feed Tom and read a newspaper on her omnitool at the same time. “Kaidan’d never say it but he needs you around right now. I don’t know how he holds me together when he’s on his own. When you’re here, at least he doesn’t feel like he’s the only thing keeping me from flying off into the deep end. I know he still worries about me, more than he should. If I have to take you hostage and declare war on Bakara, believe me,  I’ll do it.”

With a baby half tucked under her shirt and a cup of coffee balanced in the other omnitool clad hand, Shepard wasn’t at her most threatening, but Wrex held up his hands none the less. “I’ll stick around, Shep, don’t worry.”

 

 

“Don’t leave,” Edie murmured when he was tucking her into bed that night. “I miss you when you’re not here.”

Crouching down to fold the sheets under her shoulders, Wrex widened his eyes to get a better look at her. “My children miss me too.”

“But your children aren’t sick any more, you told me the story,” she pointed out. “Tom still is. Please stay?”

 

 

 “You’d better not be thinking of leaving,” Mawar told him over drinks at the Embassy bar. “Now that you’re finally showing an interest we’re actually getting some things done around here.”

 

He made time for the others where he could. Tali and Garrus had a warm, welcoming home. He enjoyed speaking with Javik, when the Prothean was in a talkative mood. Vega was away on some deep space mission, wasn’t expected back for almost a year. As he understood from the others, Joker was rarely to be found among them these days. Wrex found himself spending many hours with Grunt. For all his tank given knowledge, Grunt had only known the krogans as Wrex had moulded them. There were many krogan on Bastion, and Grunt moved among them, nodding to friends and laughing at enemies. The tank bred proved surprisingly sociable, Shepard’s influence no doubt, with a strong network of fellow warriors who freely shared information about the colonies they’d been warring on. While Bastion maintained its presence as the powerhouse and centre of galactic politics, if you strayed too far from the homeworlds the galaxy quickly became a lawless place. Those systems that weren’t going to get a relay anytime soon were making their own laws. Shepard’s newly inclusive Council was going to have to decide if independent colonies deserved seats too.

And Grunt was sweetly oblivious to all of it. Somehow, with Shepard and all his experiences, he had managed to remain completely unaware of the political ramifications of the things he did. Wrex liked that. It gave him hope. 

 

“How are things back in the world?” Bakara’s voice was brimming with suppressed laughter and Wrex smiled at her holo image, rocking Tom in his arms.

He held the newest Shepard up for inspection, although Bakara had seen him a few times now. “Getting stronger every day,” he purred, and Tom gurgled obligingly, grasping at Wrex’s snub nose.

“And everyone else?” The holo flickered for a moment, the QEC on Bakara’s end influenced by some Tuchankan phenomenon no doubt. The apartment showed through her image for a moment, Lou, the dog, raised his head and blinked until the holo returned.

“Well enough,” Wrex told her. “Shepard is back on the Council, part time, but I think it’s doing her good. The little ones all seem to be adjusting.”

“Good,” Bakara said firmly. “And Kaidan?”

“Why do you ask?” he teased, knowing that whatever charm his friend possessed also seemed to work on krogan women. The shaman returned his gaze impassively, only reaching up to adjust her veil. “Everyone is fine.”

“Good,” Bakara said again, smoothing her hands against the folds on her robes. She cleared her throat.

“And how are things on Tuchanka?” he asked, rearranging Tom in his arms, rubbing the tiny nubs of a spinal column to make him expel wind. Humans. “No doubt you’ve fixed the place without me?”

“But of course,” Bakara said, as though it had been any doubt. “Crops are harvested, we’ve laid foundations for the new temple and only one skirmish has broken out.”

Wrex felt his redundant respiratory system draw in a breath, an ancient preparation for fight. “But you’re okay?”

“We’re fine, Wrex. All of us.” She smiled at him. “But . . . I miss you.”

He chuckled. “Be careful what you wish for, because I have a quarian ship ready to take me back to Tuchanka. We’re leaving at the end of the week.”

He could see Bakara inhaling deeply, just as he had, and she smiled more fully. “Well,” she said, shrugging one shoulder. “If they can spare you.”

Looking down at Tom’s wide, dark eyes, Wrex found himself confident of the fact the Shepards would be fine. “Well, I do have our relay repairs to oversee,” he conceded, and Bakara roared with delight.

Lou fled the room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I love Wrex. Are there any requests for character PoVs in future chapters?


	7. Inheritance of Dirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The words were clumsy on his tongue, the concern felt wooden and temporary, a carved box to keep the inheritance in, hidden in the darkest recesses of his memories. Buried.

**5th February, 2204**

 

There are always family members you only see at funerals. That was what his mother had always said, and in the way that young kids do, he’d repeated it to people, most often at funerals when people started lamenting their lack of connection, but he’d never understood it.

Because that family member was him. Jacob held his coffee cup, watching the people milling around the wake, and with each face he counted how long it had been since he had last seen them. When Liara kissed Miranda’s cheek and they scolded each other for not having met in months, he wondered when he last spoken to the sparkling asari. And as for Miranda? She tucked her hair behind her ear as her son came bounding up to her, leaning down to hear what he had to say. Edie Shepard trotted along behind him, a good head or so taller and looking like a little heartbreaker.

How old was she? Jacob had to count it in his head, she had been born in March, right?  The year 21 . . . 2190? 2191? He couldn’t remember. The last time he’d seen her they’d been on Tuchanka. She’d been about ten, and tearing the planet up with Urdnot Mor.

“Honey?” Brynn placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned in closer. “You’re lightyears away. Thinking of Hackett?”

“Yeah,” he said, accepting her affection with his best smile and a kiss on her cheek. “Have you seen Shep?”

“He’s hero worshipping Jeff,” Brynn said, pulling the next chair from the round table and sitting down. She was wearing a neat black suit, hair slicked back, small titanium studs glittering on her earlobes.

He had always had some thought in his head that she dressed like Miranda, both powerful executives of their own particular brand of business. He realised, and not with comfort, that in the intervening years whatever fashions they’d shared had been changed by style and experience. Miranda was on the far side of the room, talking to Edie with animated hand gestures and bright smiles. She wore a loose black dress, her hair hanging in waves down off her shoulder. When her adopted son, Sam, approached her, she placed her arm around his shoulder while keeping up her conversation with Edie.

The two kids were of age, Jacob knew. Or at least, as well as they knew Sam’s age. Fourteen, he decided, or close to it for Edie. He knew the look that Sam was trying to hide. He knew why Sam was trying so hard to be a man, hands tucked into his suit pockets, tolerating his mother’s arm on his shoulders because it might be portrayed as his comforting her.

“Jacob?” Brynn interrupted his thoughts with a slightly amused tone. She smiled at him. “Go talk to some people, Jacob,” she said, and she brought out her omnitool, clearly preparing to busy herself for some time.

Jacob hesitated a moment, taking stock of the room. Miranda was deep in her conversation, and while Sam might appreciate the opportunity to have Edie’s attention to himself, Jacob wasn’t sure he could cope with Miranda’s. Kaidan had his other children, a girl still at the toddling stage sitting on his shoulders, the little boy who hadn’t been well clinging to his hand. The older boy was reading a book on his omnitool, paying no attention at all to the family around him. Kaidan was talking to Kasumi, another face Jacob couldn’t quite bear right now. The krogan contingent were discussing something with Tali and Garrus, the red clad humps and vibrant yellow quarian grieving garb startlingly different from the black funeral wear of the humans.

At last, Jacob walked toward his son. Shepard Taylor was eighteen now, the best of him and Brynn, with long curling hair and bright eyes as he laughed at Jeff Moreau’s bad jokes. “Hey, dad.”

“Hey,” he said. His son gave Joker a wink and waved goodbye, making good an escape that could only throw doubt on the content of Jeff’s stories. Jacob had barely begun to ask when Jeff began protesting his innocence.

“Just telling stories of the old days.”

“We try not to do that,” Jacob said grimly, watching his son lingering near Vega and a group of Alliance soldiers.

“What? Tell him about his inheritance?” Joker shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. “That’s it, you know,” he said off Jacob’s expression. “It’s all their inheritance. They’ll never not be the children of the _Normandy_. Some of them will want to run from it, some of them will embrace it. But that’s what they are. Even if you only turn up at weddings and funerals, you can’t escape our sordid little family history.”

Jacob watched the smaller man drink deep from his coffee cup. The years had given him grey streaks at his temple, a hard line around his mouth where his lips had been gritted in pain once too often. One of his hands had been replaced by a bionic, top of the line, like Shepard’s, but clearly not a part of him. Those bionics didn’t age like the rest of the body did. Unlike Shepard’s, the join to the rest of the body was at the wrist, not at the shoulder, and Joker wore a small omnitool emitter around the wrist to hide it.

When did the pilot become so vain? Or had he always been vain? For the eighteen months that Jacob might have counted Joker amongst his closest acquaintances, they were hardly under normal conditions. Their fearless leader used to wear a colony-style work gear, and never pulled anyone up on their uniform violations. After a while even Miranda had stopped pushing Cerberus branded clothing on crewmates. Joker had been as dirty, hard worn and frightened as the rest of them

Jacob didn’t think he knew any of these people, not really. They were all here mourning the loss of the same man, and yet Jacon wasn’t sure what Hackett had ever done for him  - asides from offer him a few jobs immediately post Reapers. He was here for the inheritance, like Joker said, the inheritance he could never escape.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Joker said quietly, a smirk on his face. He laughed when Jacob nodded. “Well don’t look at me. I’m two years sober.”

“Good for you,” Jacob parroted, “how have you been anyway?” He winced, and hoped Joker didn’t see. The words were clumsy on his tongue, the concern felt wooden and temporary, a carved box to keep the inheritance in, hidden in the darkest recesses of his memories. Buried.

Joker was watching him, the faintest smile lingering on his lips. “It’s okay, Jacob, you don’t need to ask.” The pilot raised his coffee cup in salute, and wandered off, taking a line that led him away from Shepard.

Their old saviour had reappeared. She was standing with her family, her daughter standing beside her with an arm looped around her waist. Edie was nearly as tall as her mother, though Shepard was rarely in danger of towering over anyone. There was a joke that Shepard’s success with the krogans came from the fact they could look her in the eye, it was lewd and made references to humps and tits, and was oft repeated by those who felt the human Councillor never did enough for her species.

Jacob watched the tableau, the people telling stories about Hackett, the man who had brought them all together. Shepard looked pale and tired, with bruises under her eyes. The laughter and fond memories couldn’t quite keep the sadness at bay. Today, Shepard had said goodbye to family, today, Jacob had made small talk. Today, Shepard had leaned on her daughter for strength, today, Jacob had seen his son bask in the reflected glory of long ago deeds. Today, Shepard was among friends. Today, Jacob was among strangers.

There was a footstep on the floor behind him, a heel clicking against tile, and a subtle change to the air that told him Miranda was nearby. “Hey,” she said, and she kissed his cheek, placing a hand on his arm. He found himself smiling at her.

“Hey,” he said in return, and returned her smile and her kiss. There was no flutter in his chest, no flip of his stomach, and when he studied her beautiful, perfect face, he thought the years and the motherhood suited her. “How are you?” he asked.

Miranda gave the half smile so many of them wore and shrugged. “You know,” she said.

“Actually, I don’t.”

Miranda raised her eyebrows at this. “Well.” She waved at Brynn, approaching. “Maybe we should catch up some time.”

“We should,” he agreed. “We should meet up more often.”

“Yes,” Miranda said, and she exchanged pleasantries with Brynn before making her excuses and moving on.

“How are you?” Brynn asked.

Jacob pondered that, looking around the room. “Good,” he said at last. “Let’s get Shep out of here before he enlists with Vega.”

“Definitely,” Brynn agreed, and she looped her arm with his, giving him the gentlest of squeezes. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she added softly.

“I don’t think it was mine,” he told her, and they went to retrieve their son.


	8. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no place like . . .

Earth Date 03/08/2207, Mindoir

“Is that it there?” Before waiting for an answer, Charlie was off, long hair and krogan magic princess dress streaming out behind her as she tore over the rolling hills of Mindoir. Shepard stifled the urge to shout ‘wait’ and simply picked up the pace, taking long strides over the acres of arable land that technically belonged to her. The Shepard Ranch had gone without its family for decades, but it hadn’t gone untended. The fences were solid, the hundred head of cattle moved every summer up to the hill-land grazing and the ranch hands were proud of their small, important work.

In the last five years she had found herself thinking more and more of Mindoir, and instructed old, trusted friends to start managing the land again. They’d told her they always had. Someone, she suspected it had been Sal, may the Void keep her in peace, had ensured her family’s herd had kept going. Who knew if it was still the same bloodline, most likely replacements bought from the Mindoir Recovery Project’s financial aid. And her neighbours, not the same neighbours, but new neighbours who had resettled, still cared for the animals with a reverence that shouldn’t have surprised her but still did.

And so a few years ago she had approved the plans to rebuild the ranch house. It started with an extensive security grid, of course, which just happened to also upgrade some of Mindoir’s infrastructure. No one protested, after all, if the human Councillor wanted a summer home on a colony then it was going to have to be a safe home.

Charlie reached the crest of the hill, framed against the bright blue sky. She stopped and shouted for her mother, waving Shepard closer. “Look!” She pointed at the settlement stretching out towards the coastline. “Is that it?”

Shepard had to grin at her daughter’s enthusiasm. “That’s it,” she agreed, “Domocus city.”

“And that’s where you lived when you were a baby,” Charlotte recited, staring down at the prefabs and glass. She was sucking on a flyaway end of hair that had made its way to her lips, her eyes wide as she took in the sights. “Is that where you hid from the batarians?”

Shepard felt a shadow pass over her shoulders and she shook her head, pointing up the long ridge of hills to the mountain in the distance. “See that mountain there? The one that looks like it’s wearing a hat?”

Charlie nodded.

“That’s Old Man Whiskey. Now if you follow my finger to the left, see that line of ridges that come down? Well they go down behind Old Man Whiskey and that’s where I was.” Shepard felt Charlie’s sticky little hand grasp at her fingers. She looked down at her daughter to see she was studying the view with an intense expression, sucking on her hair furiously.

With a wheezing bark, Lou lumbered up beside them, his folded ears pricked upwards as best as he could. He nuzzled Charlie’s shoulder as he reached her, sitting with a thump beside his youngest mistress.

“Come on, darling, we should take Lou home. He’s not as young as he used to be.” She squeezed Charlie’s fingers and her daughter recovered all her excitement instantly. Charlie spun on the ball of her foot to embrace Lou around the neck and squeeze the old dog tightly.

“He’s the best and fastest dog there is!” she proclaimed, but she turned back towards the ranch, taking her mother’s hand again and skipping down the hill. “Momma, do you ever wish the batarians had never come?”

She grinned at the question, catching sight of one of the neighbouring ranchers in the distance and raising her hand to wave. “Sometimes. But if they’d never have come, I’d never have met your daddy and then I’d never have had you.”

Charlie sucked in a deep breath to start arguing. “But what if, Momma. What if they never came and you still met Daddy, would you have liked that better?”

“That’s a difficult question to answer, darling. That’s not how it happened.”

“Yes, but _imagine_ ,” Charlie glared at her in exasperation. “And also imagine there was no Reapers.”

_Every chance I get_ , she thought dryly, but she didn’t let her daughter off the hook just yet. “But what if I’d never met your Aunty Tali too?

“You’re not doing it right,” Charlie announced, snatching her hand back and walking with her hand on Lou’s shoulders instead. “You have to imagine we always lived here. Would you like that better?”

Now properly scolded, she wondered about it. Her youngest might accuse her of being dull and realistic, but there had been plenty of times she had idly fantasised about an untouched Mindoir in a world where Reapers didn’t exist. One she liked best was when an Alliance team stopped by her ranch and Kaidan just happened to be assigned to the squad. She flirted with them all and enjoyed Kaidan’s smouldering glare when she pretended to enjoy the other men’s company more than his. And eventually, in the fantasy, he would leave the Alliance and live with her on Mindoir, only after some persuasion. Her father, a venerated leader of the people, would disapprove at first until he realised just how devoted her new beau was, and then Alan Shepard would grudgingly approve of the Alliance boy.

None of this was ever present in her mind for very long. “Don’t you think I like our lives now?” she asked.

Charlie just rolled her eyes. “David said you wouldn’t play properly,” she said witheringly, as though this disappointing lack of creativity was to be expected in her mother.

The ranch came into view over the crest of the next hill, nestled in the valley. Shepard couldn’t see David from here, but she could see her eldest daughter, a tall, skinny figure racing between the fence posts with a biotic aura levitating a ball in the direction of Kaidan’s head. He caught the throw in time and reversed it, hard. Edie fell to the ground in a puff of dust and Shepard frowned. “Come on. You can tell your brother how badly I play the what-if game,” she said.

“David says it’s because you don’t want to show weakness.”

She sighed, earning a look from her daughter. “Don’t listen to everything he says, pet, he’s not half as clever as he thinks. Come on, looks to me like Edie’s having some trouble at bio-ball.”

When they reached the yard Edie was bouncing the ball from hand to hand, the ball never quite touching her palms, fizzing with an eezo field while she taunted her father. As soon as she reached the gate, Charlie bolted for her sister, tackling her around the knees and sending both of them to the ground while Kaidan darted forward for the ball. “Momma!” Edie shrieked.

No Shepard had ever been able to ignore a cry of distress. She moved to head Kaidan off, not failing to miss his feral grin when she neared him. She shot him a warning look, hoping he’d read into that that Charlie was an inquisitive mood. He ignored her completely, sweeping her off her feet with his arms around her waist and his lips at the crook of her neck.

“Oh Goddess,” Edie announced, tossing her little sister into the air and slowing her fall with another biotic field, sweeping Charlie around in the air while she squealed with laughter. When Kaidan released her, Shepard regarded her daughters. The eldest gave her a withering stare. “You two are disgusting,” she informed them, dumping Charlie on the ground and ruffling her hair. “Come on, half pint. Dinner’s ready.”

Kaidan looped an arm over Shepard’s shoulders as they followed their daughters inside. “Did you see the city?” he asked Charlie.

“Yes!” she craned her neck to see her father, grinning. “It wasn’t very big but I still think it was very pretty.”

“Well,” Kaidan said in Shepard’s ear, “can your pride suffer the insult?”

“Small but perfectly formed,” she said, following her family inside. Their boys were sprawled over the sofa, Tom playing the latest shooter and David reading on his omnitool. Neither paid the newcomers any attention, even when Shepard went to kiss both on the crowns of their heads. She held David’s attention for a moment by hissing, “you need to watch what you say around your sister.”

“Edie’s old enough,” came the disinterested reply.

“You know what I mean. We will be talking about this later.”

David only rolled his eyes and went back to his reading.

“Momma,” Edie had retrieved juice from the fridge and was pouring a glass for herself and her small shadow. She had the wheedling teenage girl voice that made both Shepard and Kaidan’s ears pick up. Edie handed a glass to Charlie and leaned on the breakfast bar, composing her face into what she thought was an innocent expression. On her seventeen year old face it put Shepard more in the mind of jailbait. “There’s a party tonight-”

“No,” Kaidan said, and Shepard glanced at him, eyebrows raised.

“Dad! It’s just in Domocus.” Edie looked between her parents, and Charlie mimicked her, drinking juice as her gaze slid between them. Edie managed a smile. “It’s only a party.”

Something in Shepard’s countenance must have signalled weakness because Edie changed tact, abandoning her juice and bounding over to hug her mother. “Please,” she sung out, “I’ll be good! I’ll be an angel!”

“Well how is that supposed to be fun?” Shepard asked, earning her daughter’s delight and husband’s censure. “That doesn’t mean you can go,” she hastened to say as Edie danced around the room.

“Ha!” Edie called back. “You’ve already made up your mind, I can tell.”

“There is such a thing as being a graceful winner,” Kaidan warned, while Edie sprinted up the stairs shouting about what she’d wear.

After some negotiation, which somehow involved Charlie and Tom getting chocolate cake before dinner, Edie was on her way to the party in a pair of tight shorts and an asari-style skin tight top, arms demurely covered in the asari way. To make himself feel better, Kaidan had volunteered to drive her into Domocus. Shepard leaned against the door jam, watching the lights of the car as they disappeared into the twilight. At seventeen, Shepard had been working on a freighter and sleeping with a man twice her age. Her daughter, for all her guile and wit, was an age more innocent.

Shepard wasn’t sure why that frightened her so.

“Momma come here,” David called. He’d abandoned the living room to Charlie and Tom’s Magical Krogan Princess marathon. Tom would turn ten in August, and back home would protest that he had no desire to watch Magical Krogan Princess at all. On holiday, on Mindoir, her children became softer, younger, and happier to indulge their own childishness.

She found David sitting in the dark dining room, his omnitool lighting his face orange. He waved her over and shifted so she could see what he was watching, a small 2D video of a man in court, wearing the robes of a lawyer.

“I think it’s Grandpa,” David whispered, and Shepard sat heavily in the chair beside him, staring at the little image. He had no beard, he was younger than her – far younger than her, but yes. That was Alan Shepard, fighting in court. Shepard covered her mouth with her hand, aware that her son was studying her features intently. “Tom was bored earlier so I asked him to hack into the Mindoir libraries.”

At this, she scowled at him. “David.”

“What? They’d have given me access if I asked.”

“Well you should have asked.”

David rolled his eyes as if this was of no consequence, just another maddening pointless rule adults made. He scrolled the image back and turned the volume up.

On the screen, Alan Shepard turned to face a dour, bewigged judge. “The rights of a cooperative are not made less by their altruistic nature, My Lord. Cooperatives should be held in equal weighting to incorporated organisations with regards to land grab rights!”

“This is how he won Mindoir,” Shepard said in a hushed voice, leaning in closer. “He fought to ensure that the agricultural cooperative could claim and land on Mindoir.”

“Because it wasn’t settled by a company,” David said, rapt.

“Correct. Colonies are expensive, even more so when humans first expanded from Earth. Dad, your grandfather, organised a cooperative, they sold their harvests in advance to pay. There were only two or three colonies like it, the others were all mining cooperatives. They all failed.”

David stared at his grandfather’s picture. “Do you miss him?”

“Yes. I think he would have liked you a lot.”

“Did you ever want to be a lawyer like him?”

She sat back in the chair, hiking her knees up so she could embrace them. “No, I don’t think I ever did. He was a farmer as long as I knew him.”

“Why did he want to do that?” David screwed up his face. “Seems kinda boring. No offense.”

“He met your grandmother. She was an engineer, loved space, and her family were farmers. When they discovered Mass Effect fields, there was nothing she wanted more than to start a new world. So he did it for her. At least that’s what they told me. But I was just a kid when they died.”

David put his arms around her shoulders and she felt tears welling at the base of her throat. He was growing so big, almost a man. He was going to be even more of a heartbreaker than his sister, she thought, more so because people fascinated him, and he would spend hours listening to their stories. Where Edie preferred to tell them her opinion, and wasn’t quite sure what other peoples’ opinions were supposed to signify. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Momma,” he whispered.

“It’s okay,” she said back, and patted his back. The teenage affection only lasted so long and David parted from her again, returning to study his omnitool. She couldn’t resist stroking his head. “Do you want to be a lawyer?”

“I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “I think I just like history.”

She smiled and wanted, badly, to ruffle his hair again. But knew when she couldn’t push their luck any further. She left him to his files and padded through the living room where her younger two were curled up with the dog and the Magical Krogan Princess.

In the kitchen she searched for one of the older Mindoir ales, the ones she used to drink out on the porch with her father on the long summer evenings. With a bottle dangling from hand and a blanket being dragged by the other, she walked onto the terrace and climbed into the swing seat, wrapping herself up in a cocoon of wool and alcohol, watching the stars of her childhood.

 

The Many Worlds interpretation of quantum theory suggested that there were universes out there where she had grown up on Mindoir. Where no batarians had ever set foot on the blue rock in space. Universes where Alan Shepard had lived. But there were also universes where Alan Shepard had lived . . . as a batarian slave. Universes where he lived a pitiful existence on Khar’shan, shock collared and beaten, catching the occasional glimpses of his daughter through the propaganda filled news. Hearing his daughter had destroyed a batarian relay. He would have been killed a slave when Khar’shan fell. There were universes where Alan Shepard didn’t win the right settle Mindoir, where Shepard grew up on earth. And universes where he never existed at all. Universes where she had never been chosen for Nihlus’ Spectre run, universes where it had been Jane or John, universes where she had fought the Reapers away from the Normandy and her team.

There were universes she had given in to the throb of indoctrination that still sometimes quivered in her gut – the cello string that was suspended from her toes to her scalp, that sometimes thrummed and whispered _You should have controlled us. You should have merged with us._

The lights of the shuttle-car glowed against the dark hills, pulling into the bay. She blinked into the darkness as her husband emerged from the shadows, approaching with his hands tucked in his pockets, a quizzical expression on his face. “Hey?” he said.

“Hey.” She shifted a little further down the bench, lifting enough of the blanket to let him join her.

“Everything okay?”

Shepard settled under his arm, offered him the remains of her beer. He was warm beside her, and when he draped his arm over her shoulders the faint quivering inside her stilled. “Did Edie get to her party okay?” she asked

He grimaced, taking a drink of the beer and handing it over. “Yes. And it looked as bad as I imagined. Except you’ll never guess who I spotted lurking in a dark corner.”

She grinned, rearranging the blanket over both of them. “Was it a certain psychotic biotic of our acquaintance?”

“You knew she was on Mindoir?”

“I had a suspicion.” They sat for a moment, sharing the beer and watching the stars that twinkled above the blackness of the hills.

“So . . .” Kaidan trailed off, his voice dropping low. He ducked his head to catch her gaze. “Everything okay? You seemed a little, I don’t know, when I came in?”

Universes upon universes that existed. An infinity of Mindoirs, and in how many of them was she sitting her with her beloved family, in how many of them had the galaxy started to rebuild? Shepard lifted her beer to her lips. “Kaidan. There’s no place in the universe I’d rather be.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not goodbye, my sweet Shepard, but it is an ending for you, of sorts.


End file.
